


White Queen (As It Began)

by mikkimouse4271



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Best Friends, Brian Falls For Roger, Feelings, Friendship/Love, Gen, Period-Typical Homophobia, Photography, Pining, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 14:16:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17623970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikkimouse4271/pseuds/mikkimouse4271
Summary: Love can happen at any time. Love can happen in any form. It can take days, weeks, or months. But sometimes, love hides behind years of friendship before it becomes apparent. Such was the case for Brian...He never expected to fall for Roger. Roger was his friend, his best friend. Unfortunately, that’s not how it works. In the end, the heart wants what the heart wants, no matter how hard it is to get.





	1. As It Began...

**Author's Note:**

> This was a story inspired by the song White Queen (As It Began) and I initially intended for it to be short, but now it has drastically expanded and extended itself, soo...there's quite a bit more coming...
> 
> Disclaimer: This is entirely a work of fiction

╔═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╗

  ** _October 1968_**

╚═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╝

Brian stood next to the piano on the small stage and read the notes on a piece of paper. He lined up his fingers on the neck of the Red Special intuitively and gave his first attempt at the melody. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tim pacing back and forth, occasionally glancing at the door. _How strange_ , he thought. _He’s not usually so restless_ . He ignored it and returned his focus to the music. Minutes later, Tim was still pacing and it started to annoy him. He looked up from his guitar and sighed.   
  
“Tim, will you stop that?”   
  
Tim turned on his heels and crossed his arms. “It’s twenty minutes past twelve already,” he huffed. “What if no one comes?”   
  
“We have no other choice but to wait if we want a drummer,” Brian said. He pursed his lips. “You’re rather impatient today. What’s the rush? Need to be somewhere?” When he noticed that Tim didn’t answer and avoided his gaze, his interest peaked. “You _do_ need to be somewhere.”   
  
Tim’s mouth curled into a grin and he pulled up a chair. “I’m going on a date later today.”   
  
“Ah, no wonder you’re so jittery! When did you ask her out? Or did she ask you? How did you meet her?”   
  
“It’s too embarrassing,” Tim said as he hid his face behind his hands. Despite his words, he peeked out from a gap between his fingers and stared at Brian.   
  
Brian chuckled and shook his head. He knew this game too well. _So predictable. He always acts like this._ As usual, he indulged Tim. “Well, you have to tell me now that I know it’s embarrassing.”   
  
“Okay, so there’s this girl in my class and she’s really pretty and I’ve wanted to ask her out for so long and I finally decided to do it yesterday.” Tim spoke so fast Brian almost didn’t catch any of his words. “Except when I approached her, I accidentally stepped in a pothole, tripped, and knocked down all her books.”   
  
Brian broke into a fit of laughter and leaned against the piano for support as he clutched his side. When pain erupted from his waist, he quickly took a seat in the chair next to the drum kit and slouched back to relax his abdominal muscles.   
  
Tim continued talking. “It turned out fine in the end. I asked her if she wanted to go on a date and she said yes.”   
  
“You’re such a klutz,” Brian teased. “I can’t believe she said yes to you.”   
  
“Says the guy who’s too shy to even think about asking a girl out.”   
  
“Hey! I—”

The door swung open and Brian and Tim turned their heads. A boy rushed in, book bag slung over his shoulder and sunglasses on his face. His blond hair cupped his face and thick bangs covered his forehead. The long overcoat he wore went down to his knees and a scarf wrapped around his neck. Brian studied his face. _How old is this kid? He looks like he’s sixteen!_

“Hello,” the boy said, still catching his breath.  His voice had a distinctively high pitch. “I heard that there’s a band looking for a drummer? Am I in the right place?”   
  
Brian dropped the hand that was just about to shove Tim. He walked over to the drummer and offered his hand. “Yes! This is the right place. Thank you for coming. I’m Brian May and this”, he pointed to Tim, “is Tim Staffell. What’s your name?”   
  
The boy shook his hand. “Roger. Roger Taylor. Sorry about being late. I was…” He trailed off and looked to the side, rubbing his neck. “Uh, the bus got stuck in traffic.”

Brian narrowed his eyes. _Sounds fake, but okay._ He didn’t question Roger’s explanation.

“You took the bus?” Tim asked. “Where are you coming from?”   
  
“I actually go to London Hospital Medical School. About half an hour from here.” Roger removed his coat and scarf and set it on the back of a chair.

“ _Medical_ school!” Brian exclaimed. “How is it? I’ve heard that it’s a long process to become a doctor.”

“You heard right. Although, I’m studying dentistry.” Roger pulled out a pair of drumsticks from his bag. He looked around and laughed. “Am I the only one here? Lucky you. Ha-ha, maybe I should join by default.”

 _Well, he’s certainly very confident._ Brian put his hands on his hips. “You _are_ the only one who showed up, but we would still like to hear you play.” He smiled and gestured to the stage.   
  
Roger skipped over to the set on the stage, twirling the drumsticks in his hands. He sat on the stool and bent over the drums. Brian sat down, facing the stage, and watched as Roger twisted and turned various screws and knobs. _What is he doing?_

“Roger, what are you doing?” Brian asked, voicing his thoughts.   
  
“What do you mean?” Roger answered. He was kneeling down at the bottom of the bass drum. “I’m tuning the drums obviously.”   
  
“Right...” Brian furrowed his brows and frowned. _You can tune a drum?_ He leaned towards Tim on his left and whispered, “Did you know you could tune a drum?”   
  
“No,” Tim whispered back.   
  
After several minutes, Roger sat up straight on the stool and angled his drumsticks above the kit. He played a couple of rudiments, speeding up and slowing down. _Wow_ , Brian thought. _You really_ can _tune a drum_ . _It sounds...different. Cleaner._ Then, Roger started a basic pattern: **1** \+ 2 + **3** \+ 4 + **1** \+ 2 + **3** \+ 4 +.

Brian tapped his foot to the beat. _He’s fairly decent_ . All of a sudden, Roger filled in the spaces with rolls on the snare and transitioned into a different groove. Now, the rhythm was 1 + **2** \+ 3 + **4** \+ 1 + **2** \+ 3 + **4** +, including the bass drum on 1 and 3.  With every cycle, the sequence grew louder and louder until it ended with a cymbal crash.   
  
Roger moved across the drums with such intensity Brian was afraid they might break. He turned and looked with wide eyes at Tim, who sported the same expression. _He’s not just decent, he’s_ really _good_ . He gave Tim a thumbs up and a thumbs down, silently asking for his opinion. Tim grinned and showed a thumbs up.   
  
“Roger!” Brian yelled. Roger didn’t seem to notice and kept playing as if he were under a captivating spell. Brian waved his arms above his head. “Roger!”   
  
The drumming stopped and Roger looked up. “Yeah?”   
  
Brian’s face split into a big smile. “Welcome to the band.” 

 

✿

✿

✿

 

The three of them had agreed to meet up in the band room at Imperial College every Tuesday and Friday. When the first Tuesday rolled around, Brian made his way to his campus. He walked into the building and checked the clock on the wall. _6:21. Nine minutes early._ He retrieved the keys to the room from the main office. Through the doorway at the bottom of the stairs, he spotted Roger sitting against the wall.

“You’re early,” Brian mentioned, walking towards him.

Roger looked up at him, showcasing a pair shades. “I’m always early to meetings. I try not to be late because I hate it when other people are late.”

“You were late on the first day we met.”

“Oh, uh…” Roger faltered. He chuckled nervously. “About that...I may or may not have missed my stop because there was this really pretty girl on the bus.”

Brian stopped short. “Pft! You’re no better than Tim!”

“Why? What did Tim do?”

“He tripped in a pothole in front of the girl he asked out and knocked over her books.” Brian walked around Roger and unlocked the room. “Also, why are you wearing sunglasses? You are inside. There is no sun.”

“They’re prescribed,” Roger replied nonchalantly. “Plus, I look cool in them.”

Brian bit back a laugh and a retort. He pushed open the door and the two of them went in. Immediately, Roger made his way to the drum kit and started to tune it, just like he did before. After shedding his jacket, Brian did the same with his guitar. Snare buzzes and guitar sounds filled the room as both musicians warmed up their instruments.

At exactly half-past six, Tim came strolling through the doorway. Automatically, Brian plugged in his guitar and strummed the opening chord to “Hear My Train A Comin’”. He laughed as he watched Tim rushing to get his bass out and tuning it as fast as he could.

“I _hate_ when you do that,” Tim hissed as he brought the strap of his bass over his head. “Every time you get here before me.” He readjusted the bass’ position slightly. “Okay okay, I’m ready now. Start over.”

Brian played the line again. Just like always, Tim played the bass line in sync and sang the first verse.

 

_Oh, I hear my train a comin’_

_Hear my! Hear my train a comin’!_

 

Brian’s fingers expertly moved across the strings. _Yes...I never get tired of playing this song._ He belted out the rest of the riff. What he didn’t expect was the drum entrance. He spun around, still playing, and looked at Roger, who bobbed his head to the beat that he provided. _I forgot we have a drummer now!_ Brian steadily rocked his body, extremely pleased at Roger’s accurate entrance.

For the next few minutes, Brian, Tim, and Roger played through the song without stopping. At its conclusion, the three of them looked at each other and jumped up and down, shrieking.

“Oh my god, you guys also listen to Jimi Hendrix?!” Roger squealed.

Brian scoffed. “Of course we do! What kind of rock musician are you if you’re not his fan?”

“Roger, that was incredible,” Tim said. “The first time we’ve ever played together and it was such a smooth cover.”

Brian nodded in agreement. He still felt a bit of the tingle that sparked from the spontaneous collaboration. _I haven’t lost myself in music like that for a while. It’s refreshing._ His fingers itched to play again.

For the next two hours, the trio experimented with the draft of a song. It was all over the place. They all had their own preconceptions and ideas, which occasionally collided, but Brian felt no frustration. Rather, he listened keenly to Tim and Roger, whose perspectives brought new cards to the table.

At around 8:15, Brian’s stomach grumbled loudly. He put his pencil down. “Either of you hungry yet?”

“Well,” Roger said. “Now that you mention it, I kind of am.”

“How about Chinese food?” Tim suggested.

Brian and Roger responded in unison. “Yes.”

**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**

At the restaurant, a waitress handed them three menus. Brian didn’t bother looking at them since he and Tim always ordered the same dish. So, he waited on Roger and his decision. However, the drummer was preoccupied with the waitress.

“What time do you get off work, sweetheart?”

The waitress blushed and backed away. “I-I don’t...I’m not sure…”

“Please let me know. I’d love to take you out for a fun night.” Roger winked at her.

Brian’s jaw dropped. _My god. Where does he get his confidence and boldness from?_ Brian cleared his throat. “Roger, have you decided on anything?”

“Mhm.” Roger was still looking at the girl, who looked like she was going to faint. He gave her a playful smirk. “I’d like to get your number, first of all?”

Tim choked on his water. “Roger, we meant the food.”

“I’ll get whatever you guys get. I’m not picky,” Roger said.

“Okay.” Tim turned to the waitress. “Three chow mein plates, please. Two beef, one vegetable.”

The waitress took their menus and quickly walked away. Roger’s eyes followed her until she disappeared into the kitchen. Brian could not believe his eyes. _He’s unbelievable!_ He lifted his glass of water to his lips and took a sip.

“Think I’ll get her number?” Roger asked.

“No,” Brian replied. “You came on way too strong. Probably scared her away.”

“A real ladies man, aren’t you?” Tim chimed in.

Roger winked at him. “Naturally.”

**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**

After eating, they took a stroll in Hyde Park. Brian inhaled a breath of warm October air and let it out, looking up at the night sky. _Beautiful._ The full moon shone brightly and the stars twinkled around it. The sight reminded him of his studies, which reminded him of his awaiting workload. _Stop it. Don’t ruin the moment. Not yet._ Behind him, Roger and Tim walked slowly with their hands in their pockets.

Brian stopped in front of a pond and waited for them to catch up. A ripple in the water caught his eye and he looked down. The moon reflected on the water’s surface and Brian positively melted at the aesthetic view. He reached into his bag and pulled out his camera. Backing away slowly to fit the entire pond, he knelt down on one knee and snapped a photo. _I really hope this photo turns out well._ Roger and Tim approached him from the right.

“I didn’t know you were a photographer,” Roger said.

Brian stood and brushed the dirt from his knee. “Yes, I’ve been very passionate about it since I was a kid. Especially three-dimensional photos and stereo cameras.”

“Will you take a picture of me?”

“Yeah, of course! Just come near the pond. The moon’s reflection provides a lot of light.”

Roger sat cross-legged at the edge of the pond, his elbows resting on his thighs. He looked up into the sky. Brian moved around until he found the ideal position and angle. He brought the camera up and looked at Roger through the lens. There was something about his expression. Unsmiling, but not unfeeling. Not serious, but neutral. He saw Roger’s blue eyes, the bridge of his nose, and his slightly parted lips. He saw the patterned scarf and the large, floppy collars of the brown coat. _Somehow, he looks...different._ He pressed his finger down on the button and the camera clicked.

Roger moved to stand and a playful smirk appeared on his face. _It’s gone_ , Brian thought. _He’s back to his frivolous manner._

“Was it a good picture?” Roger asked.

“Well, I won’t know until it’s developed.”

Roger opened his mouth to say something else, but a yawn cut him off. “Huh. It’s pretty late. I should probably be going.”

“It _is_ sort of late,” Tim agreed. “Brian, we should be going too.”

They exited the park to the sidewalk. Every couple of seconds, cars passed them, coming and going from opposite directions. They walked to the corner of the street.

“Alright,” Brian said. He waved goodbye to Roger. “Get home safe, Roger. We’ll see you on Friday?”

“Yeah,” Roger said. “I’ll see you.”

Roger continued to the left and Brian and Tim went in the other direction towards their flat. As soon as they arrived, a wave of weariness hit Brian. _I’m so tired. Why am I so tired._ He hopped into the shower for a quick wash before getting into bed. _It’s probably because I was with Tim and Roger for hours. Being social takes up so much energy, especially when it’s with someone I only met recently._ He closed his eyes and pulled the covers up. _Roger’s pretty cool. He’s easy to talk to. An awful flirt, but he can really play the drums._

Brian mused on the events of the day as he laid in bed. Everything replayed in his head again and again and he tried to clear his mind. Before he knew it, his mind quieted and he drifted off to sleep.

 

✿

✿

✿

╔═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╗

**_1969_ **

╚═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╝

 

“Roger, will you _hurry up_?” Brian pleaded. 

Roger stood in front of the mirror. “Just thirty more seconds. I’m fixing my hair.”   
  
“What are you going do—woo Jimi Hendrix?!”   
  
Brian crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame. True to his words, Roger quickly finished and tossed the brush on the desk. The two of them ran out of Roger’s dorm room and jumped into the car. Brian turned the engine on and drove as fast as he could through the streets of London.   
  
When they arrived at the Royal Albert Hall, Brian grimaced at the length of the line. They hopped on the back of the line and Brian blew warm air into the palms of his cold hands. A little breath of fog materialized. _Thank god for Roger having an extra ticket_ . When they reached the front, they handed their tickets to the ticket collector and went inside the hall to find seats.   
  
“Front view or closer to the stage?” Brian asked.   
  
“Closer to the stage,” Roger said.   
  
Luckily, there were two empty seats on the left side, about eight rows from the stage. Brian and Roger took their seats.   
  
Roger looked around. “Where do you think Tim and his friend are? Shame that we couldn’t sit together.”   
  
Brian shrugged. “They might be towards the back since they got here later than we did. Maybe we’ll meet up with them later.”   
  
By the time the show started, the hall was packed. Every seat was taken and people stood in any space that they could find. The moment Jimi Hendrix appeared and sauntered across the stage, a cheer erupted through the crowd. Brian sat at the edge of his seat, heart pounding with excitement. Hendrix stepped up to the microphone and the audience instantly stilled.   
  
“Thank you very much for waiting. We’re ready now. Here we go.”   
  
Hendrix looked down at his guitar and brought forth the opening of “Lover Boy”. Instantly, Brian felt compelled to bob his head, rock his body. He needed to move along with the beat that propelled him and held him captive. The way that Hendrix shredded riff after riff sent shivers down his spine. A powerful energy filled his being and for the entirety of the concert, it made him feel alive. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the speedy movement of Hendrix’s fingers on the guitar’s neck. _Incredible...Absolutely incredible..._ He was completely and utterly in awe. _I could watch and listen to him play for hours..._   
  
Just as Hendrix started another song, Brian momentarily looked over at Roger. He stared at his companion, who stared at the stage, mesmerized by it all. Roger also rocked his head and body. He occasionally flicked his wrists, as if he were sitting behind his own drum kit. Hendrix pulled out a solo and Brian switched his focus back to the stage. The pulsing energy returned and he mouthed along to the lyrics.

**‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**

When the concert ended, Brian was still in a euphoric state. Even though most of the people in the hall had left, he stayed behind, unwilling to move from his seat. He was grateful that Roger wasn’t trying to get him to leave. The two of them stay in their seats for another ten minutes before Brian finally sank back to the reality of silence. All the energy and exhilaration had gone.   
  
Brian sighed. “Let’s go.”   
  
It was chaos outside. Swarms of fans still milled around, yelling and screaming, for what Brian had no idea. He and Roger squeezed past them and quickly walked away.

“Not gonna get your car?” Roger asked.   
  
“Nah,” Brian answered. “I didn’t park that far anyway. I’ll get it tomorrow.”   
  
Upon arriving at his flat, Brian held the door open for Roger. They climbed up the stairs to the third floor and Brian unlocked the door. “Finally. We’re back home.” The strong smell of marijuana hit him almost immediately.   
  
Two people sat on the couch, one of whom was Tim. He held a roll in his hand. The other man sat on the left. Thick, wavy, black hair sat on his head, almost like a wig. His lips pressed together in a firm line. Brian wrinkled his nose. _That must be the friend he sat with_.

Tim waved. “Hey guys.”   
  
“Look at you two, having fun all by yourselves,” Roger chided. He plopped down on Tim’s left and held out his hand. “Left is law. Pass it.”   
  
Tim reached into the bag near his feet and pulled out another joint. He lit it with a lighter and passed it to Roger. “Brian, you want one?”

“No thank you,” Brian declined. He walked over to Tim’s friend on his sofa and held out his hand. “Hello, I’m Brian May.”  
  
The young man shook Brian’s hand. “Freddie. Freddie Bulsara.”

When Freddie opened his mouth to speak, Brian noticed that his top row of teeth was further out than the bottom row. _Interesting._ He looked away, not intending to stare.

Roger took another drag on his roll and exhaled. He turned to Freddie. “Roger Taylor.” Leaning back, he spread his arms along the top of the sofa and sighed. “I still can’t believe how amazing Hendrix is. The energy in the hall tonight...it was unbelievable.”   
  
Brian squished in on Freddie’s right and crossed his ankle over his thigh. He recalled the memory of how he felt as he watched Hendrix play his guitar. _God, I want to be like him_ . The visuals flashed through his mind. He saw himself standing on a large stage, facing thousands of people. They all screamed and cheered as lights flashed from all directions. London, England, Europe, the Americas, every corner of the world... _I wish._

“How do you think it’ll be on Thursday?” Roger asked, pulling Brian out of his thoughts. “Do you think we’ll have a crowd like that when we play at the Albert?”   
  
“Possibly,” Tim said. “There are other bands playing that night too, but we’re last. I hope at least half of the hall is still there by the time it’s our turn.” He sluggishly stood and sighed. “Alright, I’m out. Goodnight, you three.” He walked out of the living room.   
  
Brian went over to the window and opened it just a crack for ventilation. He sat in Tim’s vacated spot and let the back of his head rest on the cushion. A comfortable silence settled in. Brian’s eyelids grew heavier and heavier until his eyes completely closed. On his right, Roger shifted.   
  
“Brian? Freddie?”   
  
Brian grunted.   
  
“Do you ever think about it?”   
  
“About what?” Freddie questioned.   
  
“Going across seas and continents. Touring the world. Being famous.”   
  
Once again, visions of fame flashed through Brian’s mind, but as soon as he opened his eyes, it gradually melted away. There was no stage, no bright lights, no audience. Only the small, dark apartment existed. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “I do.”   
  
Freddie patted his thighs excitedly. “Me too! I think about it all the time.”   
  
“Can’t say the chances of it happening are high, though,” Brian murmured.   
  
“Hey!” Roger clipped. “Don’t say that. You have no faith in our band.”   
  
“I-I do, it’s just—”   
  
“Then you gotta believe it. Really believe it, Brian.” Roger sat up straight and grinned. “Because we’re going to take on the _world_ .” He looked at Freddie. “Right Freddie?”   
  
“Most definitely. There is no doubt about it. All of us will be stars.”   
  
Brian looked at Roger and Freddie with a newfound sense of inspiration. They both seemed to share the same level of yearning for fame and neither one of them sounded like they lacked resolve. Brian gawked at them, but it was if some of that determination had transferred over to him. _They’re right. I’ve got to aspire to my greatest dreams_ . All of a sudden, Roger yawned and stretched his arms in the air.   
  
The sight of Roger yawning incited the same from Brian and he got up. “Time for bed. It’s _really_ late now.”   
  
“Oh, I should be going then.” Freddie stood and picked up his belongings. With the couch completely empty, Roger stretched out his legs and filled out the rest of the space.   
  
Brian checked the clock on the wall while he opened the front door. _12:15_ . “Will you be fine going home at this hour? Do you live far?”   
  
“No, not at all,” Freddie said. “I’ll be fine.” He smiled and waved. “Goodnight Brian. Goodnight Roger. I’ll see you guys on Thursday.”   
  
After Freddie left, Brian closed and locked the door. _Christ, it still smells so strong in here_ . He glanced at Roger, who had planted his face in between the cushions. _If I leave the window open, he’ll freeze_ . He grabbed an extra blanket from the closet in his room and threw it on Roger.   
  
“Mmm, thanks.” Roger unfolded it and covered himself. “Night Brian.”   
  
“Goodnight Roger.”   
  
**‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**     
  
The next morning, Brian rolled out of bed just before eleven. He rubbed his eyes and trekked to the toilet to wash up. About halfway through brushing his teeth, he realized he was humming and smiled to himself in the mirror. _Hm, I’m in a very good mood this morning_ . He finished up and went to the living room to wake Roger.   
  
The chill in the air made Brian shiver. _I should close that window now_ . He stepped into the living room and stopped dead in his tracks. Roger was gone. His heart skipped a beat. _He’s gone. Where did he just disappear off to without letting anyone know? Oh my god, did somebody_ kidnap _him?!_ Just as he was about to freak out even more, he spotted a note on the small table beside the couch. He picked it up and read it.

 

_I've got a sucky morning class, so I'm leaving._

_Didn't want to wake you._

_See you on Thursday!_

_\- RMT_

 

Brian let out the breath he was holding and dropped the note back on the table. He chuckled to himself. _Really, he drives me crazy._ Despite his relief, he was also a bit disappointed. _I’ll see him in three days. It’s not that long._ He bundled up and left the flat to go get his car.

 

✿

✿

✿

 

Brian peeked through the crack of the door from backstage of the Royal Albert Hall. The band on stage had just finished their last song. He took a deep breath. _We’re next._ He watched the band bow and listened to the thunderous applause. When he felt the sudden touch of a hand on his shoulder, he jolted.   
  
“Nervous?” Roger asked. He wore his signature sunglasses.   
  
“Of course,” Brian replied. “We’ve never had a crowd this large.”   
  
Roger smirked. “The bigger the better. First step to fame, am I right?” He held out his fist.   
  
Brian bumped it. “Hell yeah you’re right.”   
  
Tim came around the corner, drinking a bottle of water. Brian was about to go up to him, but the stage door opened and the group that was just on stage walked through.   
  
A stage crew worker stopped in front of Brian and looked at a paper in his hands. “Are you blokes Smile?”   
  
“Yes,” Brian said.   
  
“You’re on. Go ahead and set yourselves up on stage.”   
  
Brian fiddled with his guitar strap. _Here we go_ . Roger and Tim huddled beside him. The three of them clapped each other’s backs, walked through the door, and climbed the steps to the stage.   
  
The audience was everywhere: above on balconies, below in rows, left and right on the sides. Brian’s heart thumped wildly inside his chest. _I’m standing where Jimi Hendrix stood, less than a week ago. I’m about to play on the very stage that he played on._ He didn’t know whether he felt more anxious or excited. He glanced to his right, at Tim, then behind him, at Roger. They both gave him tiny nods. As he adjusted the microphone stand in front of him, the audience quieted. All eyes were glued to the stage.   
  
With further ado, Brian began to play the opening line to their first song. One note came after the other like a natural progression. Just like they had rehearsed, Roger’s drumbeat jumped in, Tim not far behind with the bass and lyrics.   


_Yesterday, my life was in ruin_

_Now today, I know what I’m doing_

_Got a feeling, I should be doing alright..._

  
Brian stepped up to the microphone.

_Doing alright..._

  
**‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**   
  
Brian, Tim, and Roger lined up at the front of the stage and the crowd applauded. Several people stood and jumped up and down, cheering as they clapped. The three of them linked and raised their arms and dipped in a bow. As the walked off the stage, Brian saw Roger waving and blowing kisses. He cracked a smile. Typical Roger .   
  
After they passed through the stage door, Brian turned around and realized that Tim was no longer there. “Huh?” He nudged Roger. “Hey, where did Tim go?”   
  
“He said he was going to find Freddie,” Roger answered. “Might take him a while.”   
  
Brian went into the dressing room and packed up his guitar in its case. Roger slipped his drumsticks into his bag and put on his coat. Still missing Tim, they decided to wait in the hallway near the front entrance.   
  
Within a couple of minutes, a group of ladies approached the two of them. Brian looked up, but none of them noticed him. Roger, who looked like he was about to fall asleep only five seconds ago, sat up straight and plastered a wicked smile on his face.   
  
One of the girls giggled. “Hello.”   
  
Roger took her hand and kissed the top of it. “Hello, beautiful.”   
  
Brian rolled his eyes. Every single time after every show . Brian tried to be indifferent, but he couldn’t help paying attention. He’s so charming. Why can’t I be like that?   
  
The girl giggled again. “My friends and I saw you on stage just now. You’re really good.” She licked her lips suggestively. “I’m Diana.”   
  
As if competing, the rest of the ladies introduced themselves.   
  
“I’m Shelly!”   
  
“My name is Helen!”   
  
“I’m Bianca!”   
  
Completely unfazed, Roger beamed at all of them. “What can I do for you lovely ladies?”   
  
Bianca batted her eyelashes. “Do you want to come hang with us?”   
  
“Oh yes, for sure. I’d love to.”   
  
Brian raised his eyebrows. “Not coming to the pub with us then?”   
  
“Oh, oops. Sorry. The three of you can still knock yourselves out with drinks, though!” Roger smirked. “I’ve got my own drinks tonight.”   
  
Brian groaned at Roger’s words. Roger laughed and put his arms around two girls. Brian watched the girls fawn over Roger as they walked away. At the last second, Roger turned his head and sent him a wink. Brian simply shook his head in mock disapproval. He’s such a handful sometimes.

 

✿

✿

✿

 

“I-I don’t know if I can do this,” Roger stammered. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Jesus Christ, I’ve never been so fucking stressed in my life.”   
  
Brian crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “You know, weren’t you studying dentistry before?”   
  
“That doesn’t mean I want these metallic death sticks in my mouth!”   
  
The dentist walked into the room and placed the so-called “metallic death sticks” on the tray. Roger’s eyes widened and he pressed his lips together. When the dentist lowered the chair to a flatter angle, Roger’s hands clamped around the handles on the side.   
  
The dentist sank back in his chair. “If this is going to happen, I’m going to need you to open your mouth.”   
  
Roger did not open his mouth. Brian sighed in exasperation. _We are going to be here forever if he insists on being stubborn_ . He noticed that Roger’s grip on the chair’s handle was so tight that his knuckles turned white. _He’s terrified_ . He uncrossed his arms and walked over to the side opposite of the dentist. The dentist looked up, but did not say anything.   
  
“What are you? Seven?” Brian scolded. “It’s just pulling a tooth out. Stop being a baby about it.” He pried Roger’s left hand away from the handle and held it. “Come on, open your mouth.” Roger seemed to have lost some tension, but his mouth still remained shut, so Brian pushed a bit more. “I’ll get you whatever you want after. Yogurt, ice cream, applesauce.”   
  
After a couple of wavering glances, Roger finally opened his mouth. When the dentist inserted a mouth prop, he tensed up again. Brian squeezed Roger’s hand in reassurance.

The dentist injected a needle into Roger’s gums and Brian winced. Roger clutched his hand so hard it was becoming numb, but he ignored it. Unsure of how else to comfort, he rubbed small circles on Roger’s knuckles to remind him that he wasn’t alone.

The procedure lasted around twenty minutes. As soon as everything was removed, Roger jumped out of the chair. Two little bumps jutted out from his cheeks because of the gauze inside the corners of his mouth. Brian refrained from making a funny comment about it. He wiggled his fingers to bring the blood circulation back. Just as he was about go into the reception room, the dentist called him over. 

Brian turned around. “Yes?”   
  
“The two of you aren’t... _together_ , are you?” The dentist whispered, pulling a face. “Because it might be legal to... _do_ things in private, but this is a public facility.”   
  
“N-No! I’m not—we’re not together,” Brian sputtered. “We’re just good friends.”   
  
“Good. I don’t need any gay shit in my workplace.”   
  
The dentist walked away, leaving Brian on a horribly distasteful note. _What an arsehole._ He found Roger and together they left the building. Roger clung onto his arm and Brian shied away from the urge to embrace him. _This is stupid. I’m not gay. I’m just...Roger and I are just really close friends_.

“It’s hot,” Roger complained through gritted teeth. “I want ice cream. You said you’d buy me ice cream.”

Brian laughed. “You’re not supposed to be eating anything so soon, but let’s go get you that ice cream for later.” 

As he had promised, Brian brought Roger to the market and bought him whatever he wanted. After a while, Brian forgot about what the dentist had said. He was too engaged with indulging his best friend. The two of them ran around the market. Brian criticized Roger over and over for putting too many items in the basket, but in the end, he paid for it all. _Spending is not so bad, once in a while_ , he reasoned with himself. Grabbing the bagged groceries, he and Roger strolled out of the market, back into the heat of a hot summer day.

 

✿

✿

✿

 

Brian knocked on the door to Freddie’s and Roger’s flat. It opened and revealed Freddie draped in what appeared to be a tablecloth tailored into a vest. At this point, Brian wasn’t surprised anymore. He had seen far more unusual fashion styles on his friend.   
  
“Welcome!” Freddie exclaimed. “Come in! You’re late.”   
  
“Sorry about that,” Brian said as he handed Freddie his gift bag. He gave him a hug, looking over his shoulder. “I was held up by my—”   
  
Brian stopped mid-sentence when he saw a familiar face in the living room. _Mary Austin?_ He waited for her to turn around in order to get a better look. When she did, they caught each other’s eyes.   
  
Freddie closed the door. “Brian. What’s wrong?”   
  
“Oh, uh, I just recognized someone.”   
  
Mary walked over to Freddie. “Hello, Brian. Good to see you again.”   
  
Freddie looked back and forth between Brian and Mary. “You two know each other?”   
  
“We used to date,” Brian explained.   
  
Shock flashed over Freddie’s face and he gaped, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a shriek from Roger.   
  
“BRI!!!”   
  
Brian turned his head at the sound of his name and saw Roger running straight towards him. At the last second, he realized what was going to happen and quickly braced himself. Roger pounced on him and he grunted at the impact, almost falling backwards. He secured his hands under Roger’s thighs and held him up.   
  
“Briiian. Briiian May is heeere,” Roger slurred.   
  
Brian trudged over to the sofa and dumped Roger on it. “How is this twit already drunk? Who gave him so much to drink?”   
  
“That would be Fred,” Tim yelled from the kitchen.   
  
“Hey!” Freddie shouted. “Hmph, snitch.”   
  
Brian took off his overcoat and hung it up in the closet. He greeted Tim in the kitchen, who offered him a beer. Grateful, he took it and drank a sip. Freddie and Mary took a seat next to each other at the dining table. Glancing at the table, Brian saw that the food and utensils were already set up. _Damn. That talk with my professor really ran long._ He groaned. “I’m sorry I’m so late. I should’ve been here to help you guys cook and set up.”   
  
Freddie choked on his drink. He coughed violently into the crook of his arm, away from the table. Mary thwacked his back, but the corners of her mouth were also lifted in a contained laugh. Even Tim chuckled as he joined them at the table.   
  
_Huh?_ Brian frowned. “What? Did I miss something?”   
  
“Yeah, you did,” Tim said. “Those two dimwits”, he pointed at Freddie and Roger, “can’t even boil an egg. I’m not a terrible cook myself, but Freddie wanted a lavish looking Christmas meal, so we ordered take-out and arranged it really nicely on plates.”   
  
“You know what? You guys did a good job,” Brian complimented. “Fooled me.” He slipped into a chair, grabbed a fork, and reached for the food. “We’re not waiting for Roger, are we?”   
  
The four of them turned and looked at Roger. A faint snore came from the direction of the sofa.   
  
“Nope,” Freddie declared. “Let’s eat!”   
  
**‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**

After dinner, they all gathered in the living room to open presents. Brian sat on the left end of the couch with Roger’s head in his lap. He looked down at Roger’s face. _He’s got such long eyelashes..._ He caught himself leaning over to get a closer look and quickly retreated.

“Okay! It’s time!” Freddie announced. “Who wants to go first?”   
  
“You go first, Freddie,” Tim said. He pointed at Roger’s feet on the right end of the couch. “Brian and I are preoccupied by dead weight.”   
  
“Okay then.” Freddie picked up a box and shook it. It made no sound. He raised a brow. “I have no idea what this is.”   
  
Brian laughed. “Well open it and you’ll see.”   
  
Freddie tore apart the wrapping and opened the flaps of the box. He gasped, eyes widening, and pulled out a black jacket covered in gold leafy and floral patterns. He put it on right away, straightened out the sleeves, and struck eight different poses. Brian applauded along with Mary and Tim.   
  
“It’s _beautiful_ ,” Freddie gushed. “Tim, was it you?” Tim shook his head. “Brian! It was you!”   
  
“Nope,” Brian said.   
  
Freddie huffed. “Of course it’s got to be the unconscious one. Can’t even thank him for such a wonderful gift!” He threw the empty box to the side and clapped his hands twice. “Alright, who’s next?”   
  
Tim raised his hand. “I’ll go.”   
  
Freddie tossed him a box. It rattled as it landed in Tim’s hands. Unlike Freddie, Tim calmly opened his gift. It was a sketchbook and a variety of art supplies: pens, pencils, markers, brushes, and paints.

Tim smiled. “Freddie, this was from you, wasn’t it?” 

“Good guess, darling! Yes, it was from me.”  
  
“Thank you so much. This is...this is so much. How much did you spend?”   
  
“First rule of Secret Santa, my dear. Never give away the price,” Freddie said. “Or is that the second rule?”   
  
Roger’s head was making Brian’s thighs fall asleep, so he shifted slightly. “Alright, I guess I’m next.”   
  
Instead of throwing it, Freddie walked it over. On the top, a label read _Please Be Careful! Fragile Merchandise!_ in bold red letters. Placing the box on the arm of the sofa, Brian carefully removed the wrapping. Inside sat a black camera.   
  
“Oh my god…no way,” Brian murmured. “This is an Olden Stereo Realist!” He sucked in a breath as he picked it up. “There’s a limited number of cameras in this model. Tim, this must be you. I mean, logically, Roger got Freddie and Freddie got you. You’re the only one left, but you know how much I love stereos.”   
  
Tim grinned. “Glad you like it.”   
  
“I can’t believe you got this!” Brian exclaimed. “How much was it?”   
  
Tim wagged his finger. “Nope. First rule of Secret Santa, remember? Although I hope you have film.”   
  
“Yes, I’ve got film. Thank you so much, Tim. This is amazing.” Brian held the delicate object in his hands. _It’s too bad I left my camera at home. I could’ve switched the film roll_ . He reluctantly put the camera back in the box. _I can’t wait to try it out._   
  
Roger’s head turned on his lap and Brian looked down. He watched the slow movement of Roger’s chest as he breathed in and out. _His hair’s grown quite a lot_ . He combed his fingers through Roger’s soft, blond locks.   
  
“Wait a minute,” Freddie said. “There are two things there. Brian, did you get Roger _two_ presents?”   
  
“Yeah, I guess I technically—”   
  
“Wow, talk about bias and favouritism.”   
  
“—I did.” Brian held up his hands defensively. “It’s not bias, I swear! One of them is a joke.”   
  
“Okay, so what’d you get him?”   
  
“You’ll find out tomorrow when Roger is awake and _sober_ so he can open them.”   
  
“Oh come on,” Freddie whined. “There’s no harm in telling us, is there?”   
  
“Nope. Not happening. You will have to suffer through the night. Sorry Freddie.”   
  
“Ah, speaking of the night,” Tim said. “I’ve got to go. I have work tomorrow morning.”   
  
“You’re not staying?” Freddie pouted. “Brian, how about you? You’ll stay right?”   
  
“Well...to be honest, I really want to try out this camera and the film is at home,” Brian admitted. “Sorry.” He slipped out from under Roger’s head. “Should we wake Roger?”   
  
Freddie waved his hand dismissively. “He’ll be fine. I’ll just cover him with something.”   
  
Brian laughed and packed his gifts for Roger back into a bag. Tim opened the front door, said goodbye, and headed down the stairs. Brian put on his coat and waved goodbye. Just as he was leaving, Freddie caught up to him and pulled him aside.   
  
“Hey, uh, I didn’t get to ask you earlier,” Freddie said. “Are you okay with me dating Mary?”   
  
Brian wrapped his scarf around his neck. “Of course I’m okay with it, Freddie. Mary and I just dated for a short while in the past, no big deal. We didn’t leave on bad terms, so there’s no problem. If you’re happy and she’s happy, then I’m happy.”   
  
Freddie sighed in relief. “Oh, that’s good. That’s good.” He and Brian hugged and they clapped each other’s backs. “Okay then! I’ll see you tomorrow.”   
  
“Tomorrow. Bye Fred.”   
  
Brian descended the stairs and went out into the frosty night. Tim stood by the car, waiting. He unlocked the doors, hopped into the driver’s seat, and drove back to their flat.   
  
Back at home, Brian went straight to his old camera and removed its film roll. He inserted it into the Olden Stereo Realist and looked around the place. _What should I take a picture first?_ Nothing noteworthy popped out. _It’s a pity I didn’t have any film before. I would’ve taken a photo of Roger while he was dozed off...oh well. I guess I’ll have to wait until tomorrow._

**‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**

The next day, Brian stopped by the Kensington Market. He roamed around, looking at the different kinds of items and ingredients for sale. Around a corner, he spotted Freddie and Roger in their stall helping a customer. As soon as the customer paid for her purchases, he approached the stall.   
  
“Hey, Freddie.” He nodded his head at Roger. “Roger.”   
  
Freddie turned around and his face lit up. “Good afternoon, Brian! What are—”

“ _Brian_ . I’ve been told that you were my secret Santa,” Roger interrupted. He put one hand on his hip and held the other out. “Where’s my present?”   
  
Brian snorted. “Impatient much? Maybe if you didn’t knock out last night, you would’ve got it.” He took out the taller box from the bag and gave it to Roger. “Here. Enjoy.”   
  
Roger put the box on the floor and ripped open the top flaps. Brian watched him, snickering. _I can’t wait to see the look on his face_ . He discreetly brought out his new camera and got it ready. When Roger pulled out a lamp, his face fell. At that exact moment, Brian snapped a photo. He and Freddie broke into a laughing fit.   
  
“Brian!” Roger shrieked. “You got me a _lamp_ ?!”   
  
“Y-You did say you liked l-lamps,” Brian wheezed. He clutched his stomach and wiped tears from his eyes.   
  
“Oh my god,” Freddie cackled. “You got him a lamp. That’s brilliant.”   
  
Roger put the lamp back in its package. “This lamp is from your room. I’ve literally _seen_ it before. This can’t seriously be my Christmas present.”   
  
Brian coughed through his laughter. “No, I’m just messing with you.” He pulled out the smaller, flatter box. “This one’s for real.”   
  
Roger eyed at the package suspiciously. He opened it and inside sat a second box. Inside that box was a third box. By the fifth box, Roger was seething. Brian smiled into his hand. _You’re going to freak when you see what it is_ .   
  
Two seconds later, just as Brian had predicted, Roger squealed at the top of his lungs. Inside the last box were two tickets to the British International Motor Show.   
  
“Oh my god! Oh my _god_ ,” Roger screamed. “Tickets to the _British International Motor Show_ !!!” He crushed Brian in a tight hug. “Thank you thank you thank you thank y—”   
  
“Oh dear,” Freddie said. “All those cars on display. How will our poor Roger be able to keep his libido in check?”   
  
“That’s what the second ticket is for,” Brian explained. “His date.”   
  
Roger furrowed his brows. “My date? Aren’t you going with me, Bri?”

Roger’s words echoed in Brian’s head. _Aren’t you going with me, Bri?_ The clear implication filled his heart with warmth. _I was his automatic first choice._ He almost laughed at the sheer absurdity. _How silly. When did I get so sentimental?_

“You’re going with me, right?” Roger repeated.

Brian smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“Absolutely.”

 


	2. Where Will I Be Tomorrow?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1970 - 1971

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Tim, sorry, I didn't mean to paint you in such a bad light.

╔═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╗

  ** _March 1970_**

╚═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╝

 

Brian walked through the jet bridge and entered the airport terminal. He scanned the different signs hanging from the ceiling.  _ Gate four...informational service...ah, baggage claim. _ He stood patiently by the conveyor belt and waited for his luggage to appear. After about fifteen minutes of rotations, he finally spotted his bag and pulled it off.

In the big hall, many people stood around and held signs with names on them. Brian’s eyes landed on a board that was proportionally larger than everyone else’s. It read  _ BRI _ . A warm feeling spread through his chest and he chuckled.  _ That must be Roger. He’s so flashy. _ Sifting through other passengers, he walked over. Tim noticed him first and turned his head, probably to notify Freddie and Roger. Immediately, the poster fell, revealing Roger, who looked around with a frenzy. Brian’s jaw dropped.  _ Oh my god, is that a...beard?!  _ He stared directly at Roger until their eyes met.    
  
“BRIAN!!!”   
  
The level of unconfined joy that erupted from Roger and Freddie must’ve alerted the entire terminal. Brian dropped his bags on the floor just before they crashed into him. Tim stood by on the side, a ghost of a smile on his face.     
  
“You’ve been gone for  _ too _ long,” Roger cried.    
  
Brian wriggled around, trying to break away. “I’m really glad to see both of you too, but I feel like I’m suffocating.”    
  
Freddie and Roger let go as Brian sucked in a deep breath. Brian leaned down to pick up his luggage, but Freddie and Roger stopped him. The two of them snatched one bag and pulled him along.     
  
“Oh, I can carry my own bags,” Brian said. “You don’t have  to—”

“Nonsense,” Freddie insisted. “Of course we’ll carry your bags. How was your trip? Tell us everything!”  
  
Automatically, Brian started to gush. “Amazing. Tenerife is amazing. I saw the Milky Way, the zodiacal lights, the gegenschein. It blew my mind! I’ve got so many pictures.”   
  
“You’re such a nerd,” Roger teased.   
  
“Shut up,” Brian retorted. “I’m surprised to see that _beard_ on you. When’s the last time you shaved?”   
  
“Funny story,” Freddie answered instead. “He got sick of being constantly mistaken for a woman, so he didn’t bother to shave. You wouldn’t believe how often it happened.”  
  
Brian choked back a laugh. “No, actually, I believe it. Rog just has such a _pretty_ face.”   
  
“Let’s _not_ talk about that,” Roger cut in. “Go back to your nerd story.”   
  
They exited through the main entrance where people rushed in and out of cars and taxis that crept along the curb of the sidewalk. Brian jumped at a sudden horn honk. _Good god. The outside is just as chaotic as the inside._  
  
“Hey, er, Brian?”   
  
Brian recovered from the shock and turned his head around to look at Tim. “Yeah?”   
  
“I’m afraid I won’t be heading back with you,” Tim said sheepishly. “I’m meeting up with Maria for lunch. Sorry.”   
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Brian reassured. “Thanks for coming to pick me up.”   
  
“Of course.” Tim put his hands in his pockets. “I’ll see you back at the flat, then. Bye Freddie. Bye Roger.”   
  
Freddie waved goodbye, but Roger barely looked at Tim as he said bye. In fact, Roger kept walking, in silence, all the way to the car. _Okay, something’s wrong_ , Brian thought. He glanced at Freddie, but Freddie turned his head as soon as their eyes met. _Something is very wrong._  
  
Roger unlocked the car and got into the driver’s seat. Freddie sat in front and Brian slid in the back, dumping his bags on the seat to his left. He waited to see if either Freddie or Roger would speak up, but when neither of them said a word, he crossed his arms and leaned forward.   
  
“Okay, you two. What’s wrong?”   
  
Roger turned the keys in the ignition. “Freddie, do you want to tell him or should I?”   
  
“I don’t know,” Freddie murmured. “Maybe you should tell him because you’re actually in the band.”   
  
“No, you tell him. I’m still too fucking mad about it.”   
  
“But—”  
  
Brian threw his hands in the air. “Will one of you just tell me what the hell is going on?”   
  
“Tim left,” Roger said through gritted teeth. “Tim left the band.”   
  
_Tim left the—_ Brian opened and closed his mouth, unable to decide what to address first. “W-What do you mean he left? When did he leave? Why?”   
  
“Two weeks ago.” Roger drove out of the parking lot. “Said some shit about jazz and improv.”   
  
Brian paled, slumping back into his seat. _If Tim’s gone, we don’t have a lead singer_ or _a bassist. I mean, theoretically, Roger and I can both sing, but there’s still no bass. Oh god, this is a mess. Why did Tim leave?..._   
  
The car decelerated and stopped at a red light. The traffic zoomed past, but from the inside of the car, it was muffled. Nobody said anything, even after the light had turned green. Freddie looked down and Roger kept his eyes on the road.  
  
Brian stared out the window and huffed in frustration. “I guess the band is done...”  
  
“What?!” Roger yelled. He looked up at the driving mirror, glaring at Brian. “Are you _joking_? You can’t seriously be giving up!”  
  
“It’s not that I _want_ the band to be done! Do you have a backup lead singer _and_ bassist up your sleeve?”   
  
“Let me sing!” Freddie pleaded. “I’ll find us a bassist!”   
  
“Yes!” Roger exclaimed. “See, Freddie’s got the right spirit. The band is _not_ done.”  
  
“Okay, okay.” Brian held up his hands in surrender. “That works.”   
  
“Yesss!” Freddie rejoiced. “I’ve got so many ideas for songs. Imagine all of the different outfits we could wear! Colors, designs, styles, the possibilities are endless!”  
  
For the rest of the ride, Freddie rambled on and on. Brian’s eyes widened at a few of the mentioned ideas. Some were brilliant, some were absurd. Roger left the highway and entered the familiar streets of London. As soon as the car stopped, Brian stepped out, swinging his bags over his shoulders. It was good to be back.

 

✿

 

✿

 

✿

 

“Come on in.”    
  
Brian welcomed his date into the flat. The lights were off, as per usual.  _ Tim must be with his girlfriend. _ Brian toed off his shoes and flicked the light switch up. He glanced at his date. “Er...do you want something to drink, Katie? Water? Tea? Coffee?”    
  
“Tea, I guess,” Katie answered. She shrugged off her jacket. “Where’s your loo?”    
  
“Oh, down the hall to the left.”    
  
Brian filled a tea kettle with water and set it on the stove. While waiting for it to boil, he searched the kitchen cabinets for the tea leaves.  _ This is not working out. _ He dumped a small amount into a mug.  _ She’s an...okay person. There’s just no spark, no connection. _ The kettle started to whistle and he poured the boiling water over the tea leaves in the cup. Holding it carefully by the handle, he brought it over to the living room, but Katie wasn’t there. He checked the bathroom, but she wasn’t there either.  _ Where the hell did this girl go? _   
  
Just as he passed by his room, Brian saw her holding the Red Special’s case and his heart almost jumped out of his chest. He set the cup of tea down on his desk and hastily took the guitar out of her hands.    
  
Katie jolted at the sudden action. “ Wha—”   
  
“Sorry,” Brian said quickly. “I don’t particularly like people I don’t really know touching her.”    
  
Katie laughed. “Her? Does she have a name too?”    
  
“I...uh, no...” Brian held his guitar protectively.  _ Is this weird? I’ve referred to her as the Special for so long already... _   
  
“Hey, will you teach me how to play?”    
  
“You’re interested in learning?”

Katie smirked slightly. “Yeah, in a way.”  
  
_In a way?_ Brian eyed her suspiciously, but made no comment. “Sure, I guess.”   
  
They sat at the edge of the bed and Brian took the Special out of its case. He plucked each string, one by one, tuning them by ear. Katie scooted closer and placed a hand on his knee.   
  
“Wanna show me where the g-string is?”   
  
“Yeah, it’s this one,” Brian said, pointing at the third string from the bottom. “The top string is actually the lowest pitch and the bottom one the highest. It goes from E to A to D to G to B and back to E. They’re all fourths, except for G to B, which is a third.” When he looked up, he saw a blank stare on Katie’s face. “Am I going too fast? Sorry, I tend to ramble when it comes to guitars. Here, you try it.”   
  
Brian handed Katie the guitar. He watched patiently as she tested out the notes with her right hand. Every couple of seconds, she glanced up at him, but he didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at her nails. _They’re rather long...It’s not going to be easy to play with such long nails._  
  
Katie sighed. “Okay, so what do I do with my left hand?”   
  
“I’ll show you some common chords.” Brian positioned her hand around the neck and pressed her fingers on the strings. “This is a G chord. Try strumming it.” He winced at the buzzy sound. “Press down a bit harder, otherwise the sound won’t be clear.”   
  
For the next ten minutes, Brian guided Katie through three other chords. She was able to play each of them individually, but had difficulty transitioning from one chord to the next. After her eighth attempt, she let go of the neck and huffed. “I give up. My fingers hurt.”   
  
“That’s perfectly natural! Don’t give up yet,” Brian encouraged. “We can take a break if you’d like.”   
  
“No, I don’t really want to play the guitar.”   
  
Brian frowned. _Then why did you ask me to teach you?_ He placed the Special on his bed, slightly irritated. “Okay, fine then. We won’t continue.”   
  
Neither one of them said anything after that. After the irritation had passed, Brian became uncomfortably aware of the awkward atmosphere. He stared at the ground, not knowing what to do or say.   
  
“I’m going to go,” Katie finally said.   
  
Brian picked up his head. “You are? Wait, I’m sorry about snapping at you. I didn’t mean to.”  
  
“It’s not that, Brian. You’re just...not what I was looking for.”   
  
The words struck a heavy blow and Brian winced. “Oh...I’m sorry to hear that.” He silently escorted her to the door. _A hug? A handshake? What the hell is the etiquette for this kind of situation??_ Sticking with the safest option, he simply waved. After she left, he closed the door and leaned against it, letting out an enormous sigh. _Christ...the tension was suffocating! Thank god she’s gone_. He went to the kitchen and immediately dialed a number. After three rings, someone picked up.   
  
_“Hello?”_  
  
“Hey, Freddie,” Brian said. “It’s me, Brian.”  
  
_“Brian! What’s up?”_  
  
Brian twirled the telephone cord around his pointer finger. “Is Roger there?”   
  
Freddie clicked his tongue. _“Oh, I see. Don’t want to talk to me, huh?”_  
  
“No! T-That’s not what I—it’s just that it has to do with Roger and—”  
  
Freddie laughed on the other end. _“Darling, I’m kidding. Hold on.”_ Brian heard a series of muffled shouts before Freddie returned to the phone. _“He’s in the bathroom. He’ll be right out. Did something happen?”_  
  
“Well...my date left,” Brian explained. “I screwed it up.”  
  
_“She left?! Why did she leave?“_  
  
“Probably because I accidentally snapped at her.”   
  
_“What happened?”_  
  
“I got annoyed because she asked me to teach her how to play guitar and she gave up within ten minutes.” Brian pulled a chair over and sat down. “I know, I know. I shouldn’t have overreacted.”   
  
_“Don’t say that. Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault, Brian. That girl walked away from you. She doesn’t—oh, Roger’s here. I’ll put him on.”_  
  
Roger’s cheery voice came through. _“Brian! How was your date? This is about your date, right?”_  
  
Brian sighed. “It didn’t...work out.”   
  
_“No? What happened? Start from the beginning.”_  
  
“The date was decent. A little small talk here, a couple of jokes there. She’s a nice enough gal, but I just didn’t...like her, you know?”  
  
_“Mm, yeah. No butterflies in the stomach.”_   
  
“Yeah, exactly!” Brian chuckled at the example. “She has to use the loo, so we came up to the flat. I ended up giving her a little guitar lesson, but she gave up rather quickly and that _really_ annoyed me. Like, why ask me to teach you if you don’t really want to learn?”   
  
_“She said that? That she didn’t really want to learn?”_  
  
“At first, she asked me if I could teach her how to play and I said sure. But then, I don’t know, I guess she got tired of it and said that she didn’t really want to play.”   
  
_“Something must’ve happened while you were teaching her.”_   
  
Brian pulled the memory from his mind. “You think so? Right after I took out the Special, I tuned her. Then, she asked me to show her where the g-string was and I did. I told her about the rest of the str—”  
  
Roger burst out laughing. _“S-She asked you where—!”_ He laughed so hard it turned into a coughing fit that cut him off.   
  
“What’s so funny? Stop laughing.”  
  
_“I can’t believe—she asked you to show her where the g-string was and you—what did you do? Point at it?”_  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
_“You moron!”_ Roger howled. _“She wanted to have sex! You know, g-string, g-spot. Female pleasure point?”_  
  
A lightbulb went off in Brian’s head. _Oh. Is that what she meant?_ He pressed his lips together, frowning. _How stupid. How was I supposed to know?_ Roger tutted through the speaker.   
  
“Hey, I’m not a pervert,” Brian said. “If someone says g-string and I am _holding a guitar_ , of course I’m going to think of  the actual string.”   
  
_“Yeah, well, that’s why you’re not getting laid tonight.”_  
  
The thought of sex in such a way made Brian uncomfortable. “I don’t...I want a connection, not a quick shag. I’m not you.”   
  
_“Just because I sleep around a lot doesn’t mean I don’t want a connection. I do. It’s just that it hasn’t happened yet.”_ Roger chuckled. _“Besides, is there anything better than pussy?”_  
  
“Yes, a really good book.”  
  
There was a small pause before Roger replied. _“Yeah, okay, that’s fair. Anyway, what were we talking about? Ah, right. Your date. Don’t fret about it. You’ll find the right girl eventually.”_   
  
“Yeah, I guess,” Brian said. “Thanks for the setup, all of them, even if none of them worked out.”  
  
_“Of course! Anytime.”_  
  
“I’ll be going, then. Tell Freddie I said goodnight.”   
  
_“I will. Bye, Brian.”_  
  
The line disconnected. Brian stayed seated at the kitchen counter, still musing over the night’s events. _Oh whatever. It’s not worth stressing over._ He went back to his room. The Red Special was still on the bed. He put it back in its case and set it against his desk. He sat in the chair and pulled out his notes from his bag. Flipping open the textbook on the table, he began to read.   


 

**3\. Relation Between Mass, Luminosity, Radii, and Temperature of Stars** **  
**

_ 3.1. Absolute magnitude (Ref. 10). Relation between absolute magnitude M, apparent magnitude m, and distance r is _ _  
_

M= m+5- 5logr (I) 

_ The distance r is given in parsecs. _   
1 parsec = 3.084 X 1018 em

_ which is 206,265 times the distance of the earth from the sun. If the star is dimmed by A magnitudes due to space absorption, m must be replaced by m-A... _

 

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Laughter and chit chat echoed in the dim-lighted club. It was filled to the brim; people crowded in the space in front of the stage, drinks in hand and loudly conversing with one other. Brian watched them as he adjusted the microphone stand.  _ They’re all here for Smile. For us. _ He lifted the stand to the optimal height and tightened the screw on the side. A light flickered a few times from above. Freddie waltzed onto the stage platform, wearing a familiar black jacket with gold floral sequences.    
  
“Aren’t you sweating?” Brian questioned. He wore a plain t-shirt and the room still felt humid. “Even looking at you makes me feel hot.”    
  
Freddie lifted his chin and folded his arms across his chest defiantly. “Yes, Brian. I  _ am _ in fact sweating, but unfortunately, I look really good in this jacket.” He ran his fingers along the designs. “I suppose if it gets too heated I’ll be forced to take it off.”   
  
“You  _ do _ look really good,” Roger chimed in. He sat up straight on his stool and cocked his head, smirking. “I wonder who got it for you.”    
  
“Hm...I don’t remember, it was quite a while ago.”   
  
“Hey!”   
  
“I’m kidding. The fashionable dentist Dr. Roger  Tay—”   
  
Roger cut Freddie off. “I was never a dentist.”    
  
“Okay, okay,” Brian said. “Are we all ready to  _ play _ ?” He looked over at their new bassist. “Mike, are you good?”    
  
“Yeah,” Mike answered. “All ready to go.”   
  
With confirming nods from Freddie and Roger, Brian tapped the microphone to make sure it was working. A loud  _ thump thump _ sounded from the speakers and people turned to face him. He smiled and started to speak.    
  
“Hello, everyone. We’re back! Sorry for being gone for so long. Had a little spring hibernation.” The audience chuckled at that. “As per usual, it’s me on guitar and Roger on drums, but now we have Freddie Bulsara singing and Mike Grose on bass.”    
  
Many girls cheered loudly at the mention of Roger’s name, but the clapping became uncertain at the introduction of new members. A couple of people whispered poking comments about Freddie’s teeth. Brian glanced at Freddie, whose hands clenched tightly around the microphone and tambourine. He cleared his throat.   
  
“Thank you all for coming tonight. This first one is called Keep Yourself Alive. Hope you like it.”    
  
Staring Freddie directly in the eyes, Brian started to play. He nodded his head to Roger’s beat, silently encouraging Freddie. Freddie met his gaze, but didn’t move. At that point, the lyrical section was approaching and Brian grew nervous. For a second, he thought Freddie was too overwhelmed, but in an instant, the energy changed. Freddie slapped the tambourine against the side of his thigh and strutted across the stage. Brian let out a sigh of relief. Getting into the rhythm, the crowd started to bob their heads up and down. Soon, Freddie brought the microphone to his mouth and poured out his voice.    
  


 

_ I was told a million times of all the people in my way _

_  
_ _ Mind you grow a little wiser, little better every day _

_  
_ _ But if I crossed a million rivers and I rode a million miles _

_  
_ _ Then I'd still be where I started, bread and butter for a smile!  _

 

 

Everything swung into motion. Freddie pranced back and forth, gesturing out as if having a conversation with the crowd.  _ Wild. _ That’s all Brian could think of as he watched Freddie’s interaction with the audience.  _ Look at him go! _ A part of him wished that he could capture this moment in a picture, but there was nobody that he trusted enough to hold his camera. At the chorus, he sang out, harmonizing his voice beautifully with Freddie and Roger.    


 

  
_ Keep yourself alive (yeah!) _

_  
_ _ Keep yourself alive (ooh) _

_  
_ _ All you people keep yourself alive!  _   


 

  
There was a certain grand feeling that Freddie exuded with his voice. Similar to Tim, it was clear and powerful, but where Tim was only a musician, Freddie was also an actor. There wasn’t a single stationary moment for Freddie. He pointed the tambourine across the room, lining each shake with a lyric. When he discreetly tried to fan himself, Brian laughed.  _ I told you it was too hot. _ The song pushed forward into the second verse.    
  
The moment Freddie ended the verse, all other sounds dropped out, with the exception of the drums. Roger moved across the kit smoothly and precisely. Roll. Cymbal crash. Roll. Cymbal crash. With just one look at his face, Brian saw the raw intensity of his focus.  _ Such a natural flow...never fails to amaze me.  _ Near the end of his solo, Roger looked up, signaling the transition. Brian nodded. At the right moment, he shredded the riff, bringing back the melody. The chorus came around again.    


 

  
_ Keep yourself alive!  _

_  
_ _ Keep yourself alive!  _

_  
_ _ All you people keep yourself alive!  _ _  
_

 

  
By the end of the song, Freddie no longer showed any signs of anxiousness. Brian mentally prepared for the next song. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a familiar face. Snapping his head in that direction, he scanned the audience.  _ It’s Tim! _ Tim smiled and waved. His girlfriend stood next to him, the two of them holding hands. Freddie announced the next song. Without a moment to spare, Brian quickly waved hello. Then, he dove straight back into the music.    
  


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_ Complete shit. This week was complete shit. _ Brian trudged up the stairs.  _ I’m so fucking tired. _ He stopped in front of the first door on the right and knocked.    
  
It opened, revealing Roger, whose face lit up with a smile. “Hey, Bri! What’s up?”    
  
“Hey,” Brian muttered. Right after removing his shoes, he headed straight for the fridge and cracked open a beer. Drinking about half of it, he set it down on the counter and went to the living room. Roger sat on the floor, surrounded by papers and books. Brian plopped on the couch and slumped against the cushions. The corners of his eyes stung with exhaustion and he rubbed them. A mistake. The sting worsened. He cursed under his breath.    
  
“Bad day?” Roger asked.    
  
“Bad week,” Brian huffed. His right eye twitched and he fought the urge to rub it again. “I’m just so tired. Haven’t been able to relax all week.    
  
Roger looked up from his notes. “You look like shit.”    
  
“Gee, thanks.”    
  
“How about I give you a massage?”   
  
“Since when did you know how to massage?” Brian questioned suspiciously. When Roger smirked and approached him, he suddenly grew cautious. “Wait. What are you doing? Don’t come any closer.”    
  
“I learned it from a girl I met last week and I’ve been meaning to try it out on somebody.” Roger cracked his knuckles. “Lie down on your stomach.”    
  
“I’ve seen how hard you grip your drumsticks. There is no way I’m letting your hands anywhere near my body.”    
  
“Oh, come on,” Roger pouted. He widened his eyes slightly and smiled widely. “Please?”    
  
Brian looked away, grumbling.  _ I hate it when he does that _ . Roger started to whine and shake him and really, he couldn’t say no. “Fine.” He positioned himself horizontally on the sofa and rested his cheek on his arms. “But if I feel like you’re squeezing the life out of me, I’m stopping you.”    
  
Roger clapped excitedly and climbed on Brian’s back. “Trust me, you’re going to love it.”    
  
Roger placed his hands in between Brian’s shoulder and neck and Brian instinctively clenched his muscles. Roger slapped his back and he flinched.    
  
“Stop that,” Roger ordered. “Relax yourself.”    
  
Brian took a deep breath and loosened up, letting gravity take over his body. At first, Roger kneaded tentatively, as if searching something. After a couple moments, a thumb dug into a particular spot and Brian groaned softly.    
  
Roger laughed. “Found a knot.”    
  
The massage started off with slow circular rubs and tiny squeezes. Fingers continued to dig into places Brian didn’t even know were tight and knotted.  _ Huh, this actually feels pretty nice. _ He turned his head and rested his other cheek on his arms. The fingers and hands progressively squeezed and rubbed harder, moving up, down, and all around his back.  _ Mm, good, yeah. Really good... _ He didn’t even notice that he was letting out small noises until they increased in volume.    
  
“Not so bad after all, is it?” Roger asked. Brian moaned in confirmation. “Alright, so tell me what’s got your knickers in a twist.”    
  
“It’s just...this week felt so overwhelming,” Brian murmured. “First, I overslept on the day of my presentation. It’s already nerve-wracking to have to present to all my professors, who will be judging me, and I made it worse by being late.” The memory brought back a shudder of anxiety, but he suppressed it. “Then, Barry left a few days ago, so now we need another bassist. He was our fourth one! How many more is it going to take?”   
  
“Good riddance to him,” Roger muttered. “I never liked him.”    
  
“Is it because all the girls started flocking to him instead of you?” Roger didn’t answer. Brian chuckled, but then sighed as he continued his train of thought. “And...Tim mentioned that he wanted to move out and live with his girlfriend.”    
  
Roger moved the massage further down Brian’s back. “I don’t see the problem. I’m surprised he didn’t move out already.”    
  
“Rog, I can’t afford to live in the flat on my own.”    
  
Roger’s hands traveled back up to Brian’s shoulders. “Then come live with me and Freddie.”    
  
Brian propped himself up on his elbows and turned his head around. “Really? Are you sure?”    
  
“Yeah. It’s a little small, but as long as you don’t mind the couch...”    
  
The weight on Brian’s back lifted and he whined at the loss of Roger’s hands. Gently, he turned to his side and swung his legs off the edge of the couch into a seated position.  _ Wow, everything is so much looser. _ He shrugged his shoulders up and down.    
  
“Feel better?” Roger asked.    
  
“Much better,” Brian sighed contentedly. “Thank you, Roger. For the massage and for offering to let me live with you and Freddie.”    
  
Roger returned to his seat next to the papers and books on the floor and scoffed. “Of course. I’m not going to just stand by when my best friend needs help.”    
  
Brian smiled at the heartfelt words. Already, a great portion of the stress that weighed down on him disappeared. Just as he was starting to relax, something rubbed against his ankle and he yelped. He looked down at his feet and saw an orange-furred kitten with thick black stripes along its rear end. “What the—Roger, when did you get a cat?”    
  
“Actually, Freddie got them from Mary. That’s Jerry.” Roger beckoned to the little feline with small kissy noises. “Here, Jerry. Come here, you adorable ball of fur.”    
  
Jerry walked over and Roger picked him up, pressing kisses to the top of his head.  _ That is too cute _ , Brian thought. He watched as Roger showered Jerry with affection. “Where  _ is _ Freddie, speaking of him?”    
  
“He’s on a date with Mary. They went to a ballet.” Roger cradled Jerry in his arms and turned to the materials around him. “Hey, you’re not allergic to cats, right? Because you’d have a very hard time living here.” He flipped through a textbook.    
  
“No, I don’t think so,” Brian answered. “What are you studying for?”    
  
“A marine biology test.” Another page flip. “Hey, do you know how fish have sex?”    
  
Brian made a face. “No, and I don’t  _ want  _ to know.”    
  
“It’s actually rather fascinating.  First—”   
  
“NO!”    
  
Brian covered his ears, already walking away from the living room. Roger laughed and followed him. Still able to hear slightly, he shouted gibberish to block out the rest of the words, but it was too late. He had heard everything.   
  


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╔═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╗

  ** _February 1971_**

╚═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╝

  
  
The music blasted throughout the disco, sharing its beat with the people on the dance floor. Brian and Freddie sat at the bar sipping their drinks. Brian searched the club for Roger, but he had disappeared. He clicked his tongue.  _ Where is he? He was  _ just _ here. _   
  
Freddie threw back his fourth shot and draped an arm over Brian’s shoulder. “Hey, Briannn. Why don’t you go daance?”    
  
“Well, why don’t  _ you _ go dance?” Brian shot back.    
  
“I’m not—I’m not gooood at dancing.”    
  
Brian laughed. “Neither am I, but I’ll go if you go.”    
  
“I’ll go if you go.”    
  
“Hey, I said it  firs—”   
  
“Brian? Freddie?”    
  
At the sound of his name, Brian turned around. A young man dressed in a gray jumper and jeans sat on a bar stool with a drink in his hand. His short brown hair  glistened with gel. 

“Sam!” Brian exclaimed. “I haven’t seen you in a while! How have you been?”    
  
Freddie looked over Brian’s shoulder. “Sam? Oh, it’s Sam!”    
  
Sam waved. “Hey, Freddie.” He took a sip of his drink. “I’ve been okay. You know, the usual. School, work, party, repeat. How about you? How’s the band?”    
  
“It’s horrrrible!!” Freddie cried, wiping away a nonexistent tear. “We’ve just lost our sixth bassist!”    
  
“Sixth?!”    
  
“Yes. Six  _ whole _ people and  _ still _ we haven’t found a permanent one yet.”    
  
“You know, I have a friend who plays bass,” Sam suggested. “Maybe he can join your band.”   
  
“Really?!” Brian’s hopes shot up, but he pushed them back down, afraid that they would be squashed yet again. “Is he any good?”    
  
“Yeah.” Sam sipped his drink. “He’s pretty good. He’s here tonight if you want to meet him.” He glanced around the dance floor and pointed at somebody. “That’s him, wearing a black, silky-looking shirt with small white dots. A mane of long, wavy, brown hair.”    
  
Looking at the direction that Sam pointed in, Brian spotted an energetic dancer that fit the description. Slightly swaying back and forth, he moved his arms and hips in an odd, funky way, but somehow it worked.    
  
Sam called out. “JOHN!”    
  
John paused and looked around. Sam waved his arms in the air, successfully getting the attention of his friend. John stumbled off the dance floor, making his way to the bar. He leaned against the bar counter, back facing Brian.    
  
Sam turned him about face. “John, I want you to meet two of my friends. They’re in a band.”   
  
Brian held out his hand and John reached out to shake it, but missed by a couple inches. Brian bit back a laugh.  _ He’s rather drunk. _ He took John’s hand and shook it. “Hello. I’m Brian May.”    
  
“Helloo, Brian,” John smiled. He was still bouncing slightly to the beat of the music. “My name is John Richard  _ Deacon _ and I was boorn on August the 19th, 1951.” He giggled.    
  
“Wow...” Freddie reacted, completely mesmerized by the whole thing. “That’s a nice birthday. I’m Freddie.”    
  
“Thank you, Freddie. I got it when I was born.”    
  
Brian listened as the absurd conversation continued, his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter. Sam appeared to have the same expression and the two of them cracked up. All of a sudden, John was pulling Freddie towards the dance floor. “Come on! Let’s dance!”    
  
“Oh nooo, I-I can’t dance,” Freddie objected. “My dancing is awful.”    
  
John patted Freddie’s head. “Awful or skilled, dancing is daaancing. Just let the music take overr! Besides, nobody’s really  _ looking _ at you.” He pulled again, adding more words of encouragement. “I’ll be dancing right next to you.”    
  
_ What a nice chap _ , Brian thought.  _ Hope he can actually play bass too. _ Sam nudged him and gestured to the dance floor. He immediately raised his hands and shook his head in refusal, anxious at the thought of dancing in public.    
  
“Oh come on, Brian,” Sam nagged. “Didn’t you say that you would go if Freddie went? Freddie’s already out there. Go join them.  _ Us _ .” He downed the rest of his drink. “I’m going too. Don’t be that one person who sits at the bar while all of his friends dance.”    
  
Brian hesitated. He glanced over at Freddie, who looked like he was actually having fun.  _ He’s not awful at dancing. He’s just shy. _ In the end, he finished his own drink and followed Sam. Sometime during the middle of a song, Roger popped out of nowhere and joined the group. Equally as drunk, he linked arms with Freddie and John. Brian slung his arm over Freddie’s shoulders and together, the four of them awkwardly wiggled around throughout the night.    
  


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✿   
  


Roger sat behind the drum kit, twirling a drumstick. “I really hope he isn’t shit. I like him.”   
  
“How do you know that?” Freddie snorted. “You were so smashed that night that you can’t even remember what happened.”  
  
“I may not remember exactly what happened, but I know I had fun. Besides, according to you and Brian, we danced together all night, so he must be fun.”  
  
“Well, he’ll be here soon,” Brian said. “Then, we can see for ourselves how he plays.” He clapped his hands twice. “Anyway, let’s take it from the top again.” He counted off. “1, 2, 3—”  
  
A knock came from the door. It creaked opened slowly and John’s head poked through the gap. He carried a guitar case on his back.  
  
“John!” Freddie approached John and greeted him. “It’s good to see you again.”  
  
“It’s good to see you again too,” John said politely. He swung his case around, looking hesitant. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t seem to recall your names.”   
  
“Oh. I’m Freddie. Brian is our guitarist and Roger is our drummer.” Brian and Roger both waved. “You never actually formally met Roger, the two of you sort of just mushed together and danced the night away.”  
  
John looked up from the ground, wide-eyed. “I-I apologize for such a bad first impression. Gosh, I can’t even remember how many drinks I had that night.”   
  
A sharp laugh came from Roger. “Bad first impression? There’s no better way to be introduced to people than being drunk off your arse.”  
  
Brian glanced at Freddie, who sported an equally confused expression. _This is who we met? He’s a lot more reserved than he was a few nights ago._  
  
John laughed nervously. “Oh. That’s...that’s good then.” A couple seconds of silence ensued. “So...I’ve been told that your band is missing a bassist...?  
  
“Oh, yes,” Freddie said. “We’ve been searching for a bassist. Er, how long have you been playing?”   
  
“About...five years maybe?” John unzipped his case and took out his instrument. “I’ve been around a couple of different bands, but I didn’t really feel...satisfied.” He tuned each of the strings as he spoke. “Is there anything in particular I should play?”   
  
“Play anything,” Roger answered, his commanding voice contrasting with John’s soft tone. “Whatever you know best.”   
  
“Okay.”   
  
John began with the steady repetition of a low note. Then, on the same note, he changed up the rhythm. Working from there, he added a second note, then a third note. His body rocked as he played. Roger jumped in with a simple beat. When John’s line moved, Roger became the support, and vice versa.   
  
_A groovy style_ , Brian thought. _He’s good! He and Roger compliment each other well_. The two of them continued to play for another minute. Maintaining eye contact, John played his final note as Roger ended with a crash.   
  
Freddie clapped his hands. “You’re great! We would be so glad to have you. Brian? Roger? You two agree?” 

Brian nodded and looked at Roger, who voiced no complaint. He grinned. “We practice on an irregular schedule, depending on who’s available. Usually, though, we have a gig on weekends, occasionally weeknights. Does that sound alright with you, John?”

“Yeah, I can do that,” John replied.

“Fantastic.” Brian sorted through a pile of papers. Picking out specific sheets, he handed them to John. “Here are a few of our songs and drafts of new ones. Look them over and feel free to tell us if you’ve got any ideas.”

Leaving John to study the music, Brian, Roger, and Freddie resumed their rehearsal. They ran through a set list, fixing and tweaking certain areas. Brian glanced up at John every once in a while and every time, John held the same focused expression. He would look back and forth between the papers and his bass, plucking and strumming. For the remainder of the session, he didn’t jump in to play at all, but that didn’t bother Brian. There was plenty of time for John to become familiar with their style. This was just the beginning.

 

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The sun shone brightly over Hyde Park, bringing people out of their homes to bask in the warmth. The winds were unusually calm, but an occasional breeze swept by, creating the perfect air temperature. At the volleyball courts, Brian, Roger, and Freddie stood in a line, listening to John as he explained the proper passing technique.    
  
“Okay, so,” John started. “You want to put your hands flat together, both facing up, so that your fingers are on top of each other. Then, bring your thumbs together so that they’re touching and stretch your arms out.”    
  
Brian copied John’s demonstration with his hands. Suddenly, John forcefully brought the volleyball down onto his forearms and his arms separated.    
  
John shook his head. “Keep your arms strong so that an incoming ball won’t break your platform.”    
  
Brian put his hands together again and squeezed his arms tightly.  _ This is some intense arm work. _ When the ball came down again, his platform didn’t break.    
  
“Good!” John praised. He did the same with Roger and Freddie.   
  
The four of them spent the next twenty minutes practicing only bumping the volleyball back and forth to each other. After a while, Brian started to sweat, so he took off his jumper and tied it around his waist. He drank from his water bottle.    
  
Freddie trotted over, fanning himself ineffectively with his hand. “Brian, oh my god.” Sweat glistened on his forehead. “I regret wearing a long-sleeved shirt. I didn’t expect the sun to come through so much.”    
  
“Are you gonna go change, then?” Brian asked.    
  
“Ehh, the flat’s too far.”    
  
“It’s literally a ten-minute walk.”    
  
“BRIAN!”    
  
Brian turned his head at Roger’s shout and at that moment, the volleyball collided with him. He stumbled backwards, slightly disoriented. The spot on his forehead throbbed and he rubbed at it gently.    
  
Freddie gasped. “Brian! Are you alright?”    
  
“Yeah...just shocked, mostly,” Brian said. He picked up the volleyball near his feet and glared at Roger. “You daft twit! What are you aiming for?!” With full intentions to get him back, Brian ran towards Roger at full speed.    
  
Roger screamed at the tops of his lungs and ran away. Brian chased him around the court, not throwing until he was sure he wouldn’t miss. In a stroke of luck, Roger tripped over a small rock, grunting as he fell onto the grass. Brian chucked the volleyball, hitting Roger smack on his ass. He posed victoriously as Freddie and John applauded.   


  
**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**

  
Back in the flat, Brian stretched out on the sofa. Now that he wasn’t actively moving, fatigue draped over his arms and legs. The adrenaline was long gone, replaced by a wave of sleepiness. Freddie and Roger bickered over the bathroom.    
  
“I want to shower.”   
  
“ _ I _ want to shower.”   
  
“I said it first.”   
  
“I’m sweatier.”   
  
Brian rolled his eyes. “You can  _ both _ shower. Someone just has to go first.”    
  
“Rock, paper, scissors?” John suggested.    
  
Freddie and Roger battled it out, best two out of three. Freddie won and stuck his tongue out at Roger before running into the bathroom. Roger crossed his arms, sulking out of the room. After John disappeared too, Brian was left alone in the silent living room. Closing his eyes, he focused on his breathing. He noticed the different sensations throughout his body: the tightness in his hamstrings and shoulders, the tiny ache in the balls of his feet, the lingering throb on his forehead. The only audible noises were the muffled sounds of the outside world and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. It soon lulled him to sleep.    


  
**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**

  
“ _ Shh!  _ You’re so loud, Roger. You’ll wake Brian _. _ ”    
  
Brian stirred awake, not yet opening his eyes. He stilled and listened to his surroundings.    
  
“Okay, John.”  _ Freddie’s voice _ . “You push from the back and I’ll pull from the front.”   
  
_ Huh? _ Brian’s mind tried to conjure up a visual with the minimal context. He assumed that Roger was in between Freddie and John, doing god knows what. Still not wanting to leave his slumber, he kept his eyes closed and listened closer.    
  
After a couple of gasps, Roger cried out. “No, wait, sto— _ ah! _ —it’s t-too much!”    
  
Without warning, an obscene image of  _ pushing from the back and pulling from the front _ flashed through Brian’s mind. His eyes snapped open and he sat up straight. On the floor in front of the couch, Roger and Freddie sat in a straddle stretch facing each other, legs spread out and feet touching at the ends. Freddie pulled Roger by the wrists while John kneeled behind, his hands splayed across Roger’s back, pushing him forward. At Brian’s sudden movement, the three of them stopped and stared at him. Nobody said anything for a moment.    
  
“I— this—”  Freddie stammered. “We were just...uh...”   
  
“Stretching,” John finished. “We were helping Roger stretch.”    
  
Roger inhaled sharply as he tried to sit up. “Stop helping. My leg muscles feel like they’re going to rip.”    
  
Brian felt his heart race.  _ Oh my god, I can’t believe I just thought...what is wrong with me? _ A strong stench of sweat filled his nostrils and his nose crinkled. “Did you all shower?” Freddie nodded. “Okay, it’s my turn in the bathroom then.”   
  
Freddie and John continued to help Roger stretch, despite his complaints. Brian gathered his clothes and closed the bathroom door behind him.  _ Why did I think of that...? And between three men too...maybe it’s because I haven’t wanked in a while.  _ He stood naked in front of the mirror, lost in his thoughts. With a subtle glance, he eyed the tub.  _...Should I?...  _ Turning on the water, he hopped into the shower and listened to his inner voice. He dropped the soap bar eight times.   
  


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✿   
  


“Happy birthday, John!!!”   
  
Brian, Freddie, Roger, and John stood around the small circular table at the disco and clinked their glasses together. The music blasted loudly through speakers and people squeezed past them to get to the dance floor. They threw back their shots in unison and poured another round.    
  
Brian held up his second shot. “To our wonderful, intelligent, and talented friend!” He tipped it back.    
  
“To our skilled and funky bassist!” Roger copied.    
  
Freddie clapped his hands together. “And to our new roommate in our new flat!!!”    
  
The three of them crowded around John and hugged him tightly. In the middle of the tight embrace, a new song started to play and John broke out. He jumped up and down excitedly.    
  
“I love this song! We  _ have _ to dance!”    
  
“Oh no,” Brian retreated. “I’m not nearly drunk enough to make a fool out of myself yet.”    
  
“Excuses!” Roger shouted. “Take another shot and get moving, you bum!”    
  
Brian laughed and filled his glass. Now, Freddie, Roger, and John crowded him, chanting  _ Drink! Drink! Drink! Drink! _ The alcohol burned down his throat and warmed his skin. Feeling a bit giddier, he allowed himself to be dragged away. 

  
**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**

  
The next morning, Brian woke up with a raging headache. Softly groaning, he squeezed his eyes shut in hopes of falling back asleep. A sharp pain shot through his head, foiling his attempts. Moreover, the dryness in his mouth demanded relief. He sighed and threw back the covers, heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.    
  
Darkness clouded the flat. Curtains covered the windows, only a sliver of light shining through a slight opening. Brian’s eyes continued to adjust to the darkness as he felt around the wall for the light switch. He flicked it on.    
  
John sat at the end of the table with a cup in his hand, staring straight at Brian.    
  
Brian jumped at the unexpected sight. “Bloody hell! You scared me, John!” He pressed his hand over his chest and felt the rapid beating of his heart. “Were you just sitting in the dark doing nothing?”    
  
“Yes,” John replied. “It’s nice, you know. Very calming.”    
  
Brian’s heart rate slowed and returned to normal. The brightness of the lights worsened his headache so he shut them. Sloppily pouring himself a glass of water, he drained it in one go. After a second glass, he sat across from John, elbows propped up on the table, and held his head up with his hands.    
  
“Cheese on toast?” John asked.    
  
“No, thank you,” Brian declined. He sighed and put his head down. Nausea combined with a massive headache left him in a constant state of discomfort. “I feel awful. Why did I drink so much last night?...”    
  
John snorted. “Well, it was the only way to get you to dance.” He sipped his tea. “Although after the third shot, you just kept going on your own. Honestly, it surprised me. I’ve never seen you so smashed and it was quite the experience. Actually, here, let me re-enact it.” He set his tea down and hunched over slightly. With a hand on his hip, he pointed in the air and slurred his words. “Excuse—excuse me...hellooo. Are youu a staaaar”, he giggled, “because baby you are sooo shiny, hehehe.” The act dropped and he broke out laughing.    
  
“Nooo,” Brian moaned. “Oh my god, that is so embarrassing. I hope I never run into that girl ever again.”    
  
“You didn’t say it to a girl. You said it to Roger.” 

_ I—I what? To Roger? _ Brian tried to remember, but the throbbing of his headache seemed to increase.  _ Argh, go away go away go away go away. _ He buried his head in his hands, fingers pressing into his temples.    
  
“Go back to bed,” John advised. “Get some more rest.”    
  
Brian grunted and pulled himself out of the chair.  _ Good idea, yes, I like that idea. _ He held out his hands, fumbling through the dark, and slowly made his way back into his room. Every slight movement felt like his brain was sloshing around and he didn’t start to relax until he was back in his bed, motionless. Laying on his left side, he saw Roger, limbs sprawled across the span of his bed.  _ A shiny star, huh? _ He pulled up the covers and snuggled in the cocoon of warmth.  _ Yeah, he certainly is... _   
  


✿

 

✿

 

✿   
  


Brian rolled the ring around his pinky. He looked down at his extravagant outfit that featured a patch of gold crossed stripes along the front collar. Flapping the open-ended sleeves, he smiled to himself.  _ We used to wear such simple things for concerts. Now it’s a fashion show _ . On the right end of the riser, John stood patiently, both hands fiddling with his bass. A flimsy, large-brimmed hat sat on his head, making him look like some sort of gardener. Just like Brian, he was dressed in mostly black. However, while Brian’s clothes were loose, John’s outfit hugged his body. It was quite a comical sight, but John wasn’t complaining about anything. A few more minutes rolled past and Brian glanced at the drum set.  _ Where is he?! And Freddie, too. Where the hell are they?!  _ Just as he was about to look for them, they emerged from the back of the stage.    
  
Brian opened his mouth to yell at them, but stopped short when Roger came into clear view under the stage lights. There wasn’t anything special about his outfit; just a simple white dress shirt and black slacks. Except, the top three buttons of his shirt were undone, showcasing multiple necklaces that hung from his neck. Furthermore, his lips were a slightly darker shade of red and his eyes...something was different about his eyes.  _ He looks...dashing. _ Brian didn’t notice that he was staring until Roger met his eyes. He quickly looked away, heart thudding at the thought of being caught.    
  
Freddie stepped up to the microphone stand. “Good evening, my fellow people. Apologies for the wait.” His white pants wrapped tightly around his thighs. Underneath a velvety red jacket, he wore a checkered undershirt. “Let’s start heavy, why don’t we? Right off the bat!” At the sound of the cheering, he grabbed the microphone from the stand. “Son and Daughter! A one! A two! A one, two, three, four!”   
  
Brian strummed the opening chord three times as Roger hit the cymbals and sang.    
  


 

_ I!  _

_  
_ _ Want!  _

_  
_ _ Youuuuuu! _   


 

  
Brian shredded the catchy riff on his guitar. He heard John on the bass clearly, the two of them following and supporting each other.    
  
~~~~   
  
Freddie leaned against John, circling around as he sang. 

  
_ Mama I’m gonna be your slave  _

_  
_ _ All day long  _

_  
_ _ Mama I’m gonna try behave  _

_  
_ _ All day long  _

_  
_ _ Mama I'm gonna be your slave _

_  
_ _ All day long _

_  
_ _ I'm gonna serve you till your dying day _

_  
_ _ All day long _

 

Roger hammered around his drum kit, driving the beat beneath the lyrics. Brian rapidly moved his pick across the strings of his guitar, building up to the showcase moment. When the time came, the spotlight shined on John as he rocked his way through his solo. His fingers ran over the frets deftly and he plucked each string with smooth and quick precision. The notes flooded into Brian’s ears and sent him over the rock and roll edge. The energy rolled off of him in high waves. By the end of the song, his fingers were numb and stiff.    
  
The audience roared with applause. The four of them had a few moments to soak it in before they needed to leave the risers. While John and Brian simply bowed and waved, Freddie and Roger blew kisses and winked. They stepped off the platform and a group of people approached them for autographs. Someone handed Brian a pen and notebook and he couldn’t believe it.  _ Me? Wow, somebody actually wants an autograph from me? _ He signed it, grinning from ear to ear.    
  
The next group filed onto the stage and everyone’s attention returned to the music. Brian habitually scanned the club.  _ Where’s Roger? _ He spotted Roger in the corner of the room, chatting up a girl. His hair was messy and all over the place and there were a few spots on his shirt that were dampened in sweat. For some unusual reason, his slacks appeared extremely tight, practically making his bottom pop out. Brian suddenly turned his head away, eyes widening.  _ Whoa! What the hell? Stop staring at him. _ He said that to himself, but after a few seconds, he unconsciously glanced back. Roger had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and the girl was stroking his forearms. Brian’s mouth dried and this time, he physically moved away from the area.    
  
At the bar, John had his arms around a lady. She giggled, half sitting on his lap, and he hid his face on his hands. Freddie sat on a stool and faced the two of them, a shit-eating grin on his face. Mary wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on his left shoulder. Brian waltzed over.    
  
“Oh my  _ god _ ,” John moaned. “ _ Shhh _ . Freddie,  _ please  _ stop talking.”   
  
Freddie blinked his eyes, feigning innocence. “W-Why? All I’m doing is enlightening your beautiful girlfriend on how much you talk about her.”    
  
“Hello!” Brian greeted. He extended his hand. “Based on Freddie’s context, you must be Veronica! I’m Brian. It’s nice to _ finally _ meet you.” Veronica shook his hand and he sent a mischievous look in John’s direction. Deciding to follow Freddie’s lead, he put on a serious face. “Freddie’s completely right. John worships you nonstop. You know, there’s actually a shrine in  his—”   
  
“THERE’S NOT,” John denied vehemently. “Veronica, I  _ swear _ I don’t have a shrine.”    
  
Brian and Freddie collapsed in a laughing fit and high-fived each other.    
  
John pursed his lips. “I never teased you around Mary and I bet Brian never did either. Why am I being ganged up on?”   
  
“It’s because your face gets all red when you’re embarrassed,” Veronica said, kissing John on the cheek. “It’s cute.”    
  
In a matter of seconds, the two couples started to coo over each other, leaving Brian alarmingly aware of the fact that he was the only single one. He ordered a drink from the bartender.  _ Here I am...fifth wheel... _ He looked back at Freddie and John embracing their girlfriends and sighed.  _ Must be nice, being in a relationship. Even Roger’s got his little relationships. _ At the thought of Roger, he searched the room again. Roger was no longer in the corner and neither was the girl.    
  
“Single life?” The bartender set a cocktail on the counter and slid it over. He winked. “On the house.”   
  
“Oh! Thank you!” Brian accepted the drink. “That’s very nice of you.” 

Brian and the friendly bartender, whose name was James, chatted for a while. He lost track of time, not knowing how long it had been until Freddie tapped him on the shoulder.

“Brian,” Freddie said. “I thought I should let you know that I’m going to spend the night with Mary. John is also leaving with Veronica.”

“Oh.” Brian felt an oncoming wave of loneliness at the thought of going home to an empty flat, but he swallowed it. “Okay. I’ll see you guys tomorrow then.”

After waving goodbye, Brian paid for his drinks. He thanked James for a lovely conversation, put on his coat, and walked towards the exit. Once more, his eyes glossed over the crowd for Roger. Not finding him, he accepted the fact that Roger was probably gone.  _ Just the usual routine. I’ll find him in his bed tomorrow morning.  _ He left the bar, feeling a heavy weight on his chest. 

 

✿

 

✿

 

✿   


 

Brian poured the last bag of popcorn into the large bowl. Popping one into his mouth, he made his way to the living room. John, Freddie, and Roger were already seated, squished together on the couch. John pointed the remote at the television and punched in the number of the movie channel.   
  
“Brian, hurry up and sit down,” Roger said. “It’s almost ten, the movie’s about to start.”  
  
“Oh, and shut the lights off before you sit,” John added.   
  
Brian flicked off all the remaining lights and squeezed himself next to Roger. He passed the bowl of popcorn around. The opening credits played on the screen, showing a group of nurses in the basement of a local hospital. They all crowded around a single nurse, urging her to do something.   
  
_“Just do it! It’s just an urban legend, Leah. Nothing’s going to happen.”_  
  
Leah protested weakly, but in the end, she gave in. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. Taking a deep breath, she recited a phrase three times.   
  
_“Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary. Bloody Mary.”_   
  
The moment she finished, she ran out. The other nurses shared a laugh at the joke, but when the lights flickered, they quieted. They quickly exited the basement, shutting all the lights. Just before the screen went completely dark, a pair of eyes flashed in the bathroom mirror...

  
**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**  

  
Thirty minutes in, the movie escalated. When one of the nurses was mysteriously murdered, Leah started to have suspicions. As she investigated, Brian reached his hand over for the popcorn bowl. He accidentally grabbed a hand, but when he moved away, the hand latched onto him. He looked away from the movie and saw that it was Roger. Roger’s eyes were glued to the television, but he was slowly leaning over, clutching onto Brian’s arm.    
  
Brian laughed quietly. It would have been more comfortable to swing his arm over Roger’s shoulders, but unfortunately, Roger gripped his hand so tightly he couldn’t move it. Leaving it alone, he turned back to the film.    
  
The lack of background music and emphasis on the creaking floorboards set an ominous mood. Leah held a flashlight in front of her, tiptoeing through the abandoned house. She looked left. Nothing there. She looked right. A dusty mirror, half covered by a cloth, caught her eye. Hesitantly, she reached out slowly and removed the cloth. Instantly, a woman popped out, streaks of blood falling from her scarred face.    
  
Roger screamed and hugged Brian’s arm, causing Brian to jolt.  _ Christ! That scared me more than the actual scene. _ Taking a deep breath, he tried to calm his rapid heartbeat. He glanced over at Freddie, who had reacted the same exact way as Roger and was now hiding his face behind John’s shoulder. He and John shared a secret chuckle.    
  
“Is she gone?” Roger covered his eyes with his hand, but peeked through the small gaps in between his fingers. “Tell me when she’s gone.”    
  
Brian waited until the woman had disappeared back into the mirror to answer. “Okay, she’s gone.”    
  
Roger lowered his hand, but did not let go of Brian. Brian didn’t mind it. It was oddly comforting to be a pillar of support.  _ If he feels safer that way, I should just let him be. _ He grabbed the popcorn and continued to watch the movie. 

  
**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**

  
Not surprisingly, the movie ended with an action-packed confrontation. Leah had smashed all the surrounding mirrors and eliminated Bloody Mary by setting her on fire. After the credits rolled, John turned off the television and the four of them dispersed. Brian stood up and stretched. Stifling a yawn, he went to the kitchen and placed the popcorn bowl in the sink.  _ It was a good movie. A bit cliche, but still good.  _

Being the last one to leave the bathroom, Brian closed the light and the flat went dark. He said goodnight to Freddie and John, not completely sure if he got an answer, and entered his room. Closing the door behind him, he was just about to get in bed when he heard a whisper. He turned around, but it was silent.  _ I swear if my mind is playing tricks on me now… _ He lifted the covers, but the whisper came again, this time more audible.

“Bri.”

Brian dropped his sheets. “Yes, Roger?”

“Can you...can you come here?”

Confused, Brian walked over to Roger’s bed and sat at the edge. He waited for Roger to say something, but when nothing happened, he sighed and started to get up.

“No, wait!” Roger grabbed Brian’s hand and pulled him back down. “I’m—I’m just...I keep seeing her.”

“Who?”

“...Bloody Mary.”

“Ah…” Brian chuckled softly. “So what you’re saying is that you’re scared now.”

“I’m not  _ scared _ .”

“Oh, okay, I’ll just leave then.”

“ _ Okay, okay,  _ yes I am scared and terrified,” Roger admitted. “Please don’t leave.”

Brian patted Roger’s hand reassuringly. “I’m not going anywhere.”  _ I was never going anywhere. Just being a tease.  _ “Move over though. I want to get  _ some  _ sleep tonight.”

Roger scooted over and Brian slipped in beside him. Laying on his left side, Brian propped his head up on the pillow with his hand. He and Roger faced each other. Although it was dark, he could make out a faint outline of Roger’s head and shoulders and tell approximately how far apart they were. Within time, Roger’s features became more clear and Brian saw that he was wide awake. Every few seconds, he closed his eyes, but immediately shuddered and snapped them open again.

“Stop thinking about it,” Brian said.

Roger scoffed. “There wouldn’t be an issue if I could just simply stop thinking about it.”

“Think about something else then. What’s something that you don’t find scary? Something that you like.”

“Tits.”

Brian rolled his eyes.  _ Of course he thinks of breasts.  _ “Sure, sure, whatever works for you. Picture that instead of...you know, the other thing.”

“Mmm.” Roger shut his eyes and kept them closed. “Yeah...tits are nice. Women, in general, are nice. Lips...necks, nipples, wet fannies—”

“ _ Please  _ keep your thoughts to yourself.”

Roger snickered, but didn’t continue to voice his dirty thoughts. Getting tired, Brian dropped his head on the pillow and lowered his arm. He pulled the blankets up and wrapped it as best he could around himself. Eventually, he fell asleep.

**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**

_ “Ohh, yes…” Brian moaned. He held the girl on his lap, cupping her ass, and revelled in the slick up and down motion of her hips. Groaning, he thrust into her as she sank down onto his cock. _

_ The girl gasped and cried out Brian’s name. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek against his black curls. Brian pressed hard kisses along her collarbone, leaving hickeys all around it. He buried his nose in her blonde hair and breathed in the strong smell of cigarettes. Wait, cigarettes? _

_ Moving away momentarily, the girl held Brian’s face in her hands. Brian could see almost everything clearly. The only thing that was blurred was her face. He leaned forward, desperate to capture her lips in a kiss and to discover her identity. _

_ “Oh, Brian,” she purred. “Do you want it? Tell me.” _

_ “Yes,” Brian breathed, not really sure what exactly it was that he wanted. “Please.” _

_ “Come and kiss me then.” The girl brought her face closer, the blur beginning to fade. Blue eyes. Pouty lips. A wicked grin. Roger. _

Brian gasped, awakening from the dream. Heavily panting, he felt blood rushing down to his groin. A growing erection poked out and hit something.  _ Someone. _ Brian realized that Roger was in his arms, snuggled up against his chest. He jolted backwards and fell out of the bed. Not even bothering to check whether he had woken Roger, he rushed to the bathroom, locked the door, and sank down to a seat. A barrage of thoughts rushed through his head, but he heard one louder than the rest.

_ What the bloody fuck? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I got any time period details wrong, I'm sorry lol, I really tried to make it work. If anyone could give me feedback about how they feel regarding the pacing of the scenes and chapters, I'd really appreciate that! <3


	3. My Lady Soon Will Stir This Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things start to change for Brian after he begins to see Roger in a new light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: homophobic language towards the middle
> 
> I am so so sorry it took so long for me to update. I hope the parts of this chapter make up for it!

╔═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╗

  ** _Seven Days After (1972)_**

╚═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╝

 

 **∫** π(√(1-x^2))^2dx =

  
Writing the last equation onto the chalkboard, Brian sat down behind his desk. The only noise was the quiet sound of pencils scratching on paper as students copied the problems into their notebooks. Brian leaned back in his chair, sighing. _Thank god. My last class and it’s Friday._ He glanced at the clock on the wall near the exit. _Just a few more minutes and we can all leave._ Within four minutes, the bell rang and the students quickly packed away their notebooks, rushing out of their seats.  
  
“Do your homework!” Brian shouted. It was too late, most of the class had already bolted out the door.  
  
After the classroom emptied, Brian slid his materials and sheets into his bag and closed the lights. He wrapped a scarf around his neck as he walked to the main office to sign out. He said goodbye to colleagues and exited the school building. Closing the door behind him, he turned his head and stopped in his tracks.  
  
Roger was leaning against his car, arms crossed and a cigarette dangling in between his lips. Brian’s heart rate spiked almost instantly.

Roger removed the cigarette from his mouth and blew out a puff of smoke. “Hey, Brian. Long time no see.”  
  
Brian laughed nervously. “W-What are you talking about?” He willed his legs to move. “We saw each other just this morning, right before I left the flat.”  
  
“Mm, yes, we did. Of course, we _see_ each other, but why does it feel like we really haven’t? The most interaction we’ve had this week was at the gig we played a couple of days ago.”  
  
Unable to look Roger in the eye, Brian stuffed his hands in his pockets and averted his gaze. “It’s...it’s been quite a busy week. Between studying, work, and my classes, I barely have any time to relax.”  
  
“That’s not good.” Roger flicked his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out. Opening the passenger door, he gestured inside. “Come on, then. I’ll give you a lift.”  
  
Brian slipped into the front seat, dropping his bag down between his legs. He grew restless and anxious, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t know why. _Just a dream. It doesn’t mean anything. It was just a dream._  
  
Roger climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the engine on. “You don’t have class tonight, right? We don’t have a gig and we’re not practicing either, so”, he pulled down the sunglasses from the top of his head, “come to a party with me.”  
  
Automatically, Brian’s mind raced for an excuse to decline. “Oh, actually, about that...I think I should probably catch up on some work and—”  
  
“Nope, you are coming with _me_ tonight. Something’s been bothering you, I can tell. If you’re not going to tell me what it is, I’m going to at least help take your mind off of it.”  
  
Brian fought the urge to laugh. _Roger, you_ are _the problem_. Still, he tried to find a way out. “Have you asked John and Freddie?”  
  
“I think I exacerbated Freddie’s cold by accidentally leaving the windows open all night,” Roger grimaced. Turning the steering wheel, he entered the traffic lane. “John is spending the night at Veronica’s.” He slowed to a stop at a red light. “It’s like you’re avoiding me, mate. You’re not...are you?”  
  
Brian heard the concern in Roger’s voice. It made him feel ashamed and guilty for avoiding his best friend. “No, of course not, Rog.”  
  
“Will you come, then?” Roger asked again. “It’ll be fun. I’ll make sure you relax. Free drinks, rock music, women. All great things.”  
  
Women. Roger’s last comment about women gave Brian an epiphany. _Women. That must be it._ Connecting the dots, it all suddenly made sense. _I haven’t been with anyone in too long and Roger...Roger’s just very feminine in appearance._ Just like that, his mind changed.  
  
The light turned green and Roger turned right.  
  
“You’re right,” Brian said. “I _do_ need a night to relax.” Hearing himself say it solidified his determination. “I’ll go to the party with you.”  
  
**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**    
  
Skipping up to the front door of the house, Roger rang the doorbell. Brian stood behind him, shivering, despite the thickness of his coat. Muffled music blasted loudly behind the walls.  
  
A young woman in a red dress opened the door. “Roger! You made it!” She pulled him into a hug. “And you brought a friend. Who’s this?”  
  
“This,” Roger pointed, “is Brian, my best friend.”  
  
Brian smiled brightly and waved. “Hello, good evening.” He held out his hand.  
  
“Nice to meet you, Brian,” the young woman said as she shook his hand and giggled. “I’m Darlene. Come on in!”  
  
As soon as they entered, the whole house shouted Roger’s name. It didn’t seem to faze him at all, though. He grinned widely, greeting everyone in return. A few people ran over and slapped him on the back.  
  
After putting his coat in the closet, the first thing Brian noticed was that Roger had the attention of almost all the ladies. If they weren’t eyeing him directly, they were sneaking subtle glances and whispering. _Rainy Day, Dream Away_ played through a booming stereo.  
  
Brian and Roger made their way to the kitchen, where somebody was mixing drinks. I’m a matter of minutes, they each had a drink in their hands and wandered around the first floor. Brian surveyed the room, wondering who he should try to talk to.  
  
An arm shot out and grabbed Roger by the shoulder. “Hey, sweetheart.” It belonged to a man.  
  
Roger angrily shoved the man’s hand away. “Get your hands off me. I’m a man, not a bloody woman.”  
  
The man realized his mistake and quickly walked away.  
  
Roger’s disgusted reaction unnerved Brian. Just the thought of Roger saying the same thing to him made his heart race in fear. Inside his chest, his head beat so hard he became terrified that Roger might hear it. Then, he felt a pull on his sleeve.  
  
Roger spun him around to face two young women. “Haaaaave you met Brian?”  
  
Both women paused their conversation. The taller one had shoulder-length black curls, which she twirled around her finger. Upon meeting Brian’s eyes, she smiled shyly. However, it was the other girl that caught Brian’s attention. Standing tall and straight, both her expression and posture radiated confidence. Thick blonde hair fell past her shoulders. When she brushed it back, her earlobes revealed a set of sparkling silver earrings. Still recovering from both Roger’s repulsion and the sudden introduction, Brian could only blink and stare.  
  
“Make conversation!” Roger whispered. With a wink, he promptly turned around and disappeared.  
  
Turning to face the two women, Brian cleared his throat. “Hello, I’m Brian, but you, uh, you probably already know that...since Roger just introduced me.” Inside, he groaned. _That was, by far, the worst way I’ve ever started anything._ He plastered a smile on his face.  
  
“Elaine,” the blonde gave in return. She gestured to her friend. “This is Elizabeth.”  
  
“Wonderful to meet the both of you.”  
  
Elaine whispered something in her friend’s ear. Elizabeth nodded in response. Taking her cup with her, she left, leaving Brian alone with Elaine. He bit his lip nervously.  
  
“ _So_ ,” Elaine said. “I’ve never seen you here before.” Her eyes flickered down to Brian’s lips. “Not to mention, you came with Roger. He’s a very _popular_ man.”  
  
“Oh, I don’t usually go to parties. I rarely have the time,” Brian explained. “Ironically, that’s the reason I’m here tonight. To take a breather and relax.”  
  
Elaine leaned forward and trailed her fingers along his arm. “Well, are you feeling relaxed yet?” She looked directly up into his eyes.  
  
The touch left a hot trail and from the tone of her question, the implication and attraction were obvious. Brian closed the space between them, the tips of his mouth curving upward. “I’m getting there.” Now her entire hand rested on his forearm. He stared into her captivating blue eyes, drawn to them like a magnet.  
  
On her toes, Elaine moved her hand to Brian’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Maybe we can go somewhere less crowded and I can... _help_ you relax.”  
  
Brian’s blood rushed down to his groin and he blushed. “Let’s go.” Elaine took his hand and he let her lead him towards the staircase.  
  
Halfway up the first flight, Brian spotted Roger, chatting away animatedly, from the corner of his eye. He was drinking from a cup when all of a sudden, he choked and buckled over laughing. For half a second, Brian felt a twinge of uncertainty. Then, Elaine was pulling him into a bedroom, arms around his neck, and the doubt passed on.  
  
He didn’t think of Roger again that night.

✿

✿

✿

 

╔═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╗

**_1972_ **

╚═════ °• ♔ •° ═════╝

 

Little flakes of snow drifted down from the cloudy sky. Brian shivered as a gust of wind blew past his face. Picking up his pace, he sped towards the entrance of the library. As soon as he entered the building, a wave of heat greeted him and he shed his layers. Approaching the front desk, he waved at the librarian. “Good morning. Do you think you could help me find a book? It’s called _Welcome to the Universe_ , by Neil deGrasse Tyson.”  
  
“I sure can! Give me one moment.” The librarian rolled back her chair to a group of green cabinets. Sifting through multiple slots, she pulled out a card. “Found it! It’s all the way at the back. The shelves are labeled alphabetically by author’s last name. You should find what you’re looking for on the left side of the T shelf.”  
  
“Thank you very much.”  
  
Brian headed to the back of the library and scanned the letter signs on the shelves. He followed them until he got to the right shelf and searched the left section for the book. _Turrell...Tyman...Tyrer..._ Right between Tyrer and Sadler, there was a small gap. He scowled, slightly frustrated. _Somebody’s already taken it_. Instead of letting his irritation manifest, he skimmed through the blurbs of other novels and settled on one about orbits.  
  
Sitting down at the nearest table, he opened the book to the first page. Just as he was about to start reading, he noticed the person sitting across from him. He glanced at the cover of her book. It was _Welcome to the Universe_. Gaping, he watched the girl flip to the next page, her attention undivided. A lock of her straight, brown hair fell forward and she tucked it back behind her right ear.  
  
“Excuse me,” Brian said. The girl looked up. “Did you, perhaps, just check that book out?”  
  
“Yes,” she replied. “About an hour ago.” Brian’s disappointment must’ve been evident, as the girl seemed to pick up on it. “Why? Do you need it?”  
  
“Oh, no, not really. I mean, I don’t _need_ it, but I would very much like to read it. After you’re finished, of course.”  
  
“You’re into astrophysics?”  
  
“Yes!” Brian replied. “In fact, I’m working to get my PhD.”  
  
The girl’s face lit up. “Really? Hey, I’m also studying astrophysics!” There was a twinkle in her eye as she spoke. “I’m Christine, by the way, but call me Chrissie.”  
  
“A pleasure to meet you, Chrissie. I’m Brian.”  
  
Chrissie lowered the book. “What exactly are you studying?”  
  
“Reflected light from interplanetary dust and the velocity of dust in the plane of the solar system,” Brian answered. “I actually was in Spain last year, where I got to the zodiacal light.”  
  
“Wow, that’s amazing! Will you tell me more about it?”  
  
“Of course!” Brian exclaimed. “The zodiacal lights are a phenomenon caused by sunlight reflecting off space dust. I’m investigating radial velocity using absorption and doppler spectroscopy of zodiac light. And in order to do that...”  
  
For the next hour, Brian ended up detailing the progress of his thesis for his PhD. Not for one moment did Chrissie lose interest, and when she didn’t understand, she asked him to clarify.  
  
Brian didn’t realize how much time had passed until he heard the clock tower chime. He checked the clock on the wall and saw that it was seven. Frantically, he rushed out of his seat.  
  
Chrissie jolted, startled. “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Brian apologized as he bundled up. “I was supposed to meet my band mates fifteen minutes ago. I completely forgot.”  
  
“You’re in a band?” Chrissie asked.  
  
“Yes, we’re called Queen. Actually, if you’re available, we’re playing tonight at Imperial College at 8:30 tonight. You should come!”  
  
“Oh I’d love to,” Chrissie said ecstatically. “I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it, though.”  
  
Brian pushed in his chair. “It would be amazing if you could make it, but no pressure. I’ve got to run now, but it was so nice to meet you, Chrissie.”  
  
“Likewise,” Chrissie returned.  
  
“Bye!” With one last wave, Brian ventured out of the library and into the cold. He ran back to the flat as fast as he could, through the dark streets of London. It wasn’t until he got home that he realized something.  
  
He forgot to ask for Chrissie’s cell.  
  
**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**  
  
Groups of people shuffled in and out of the room. Every time somebody bumped into the microphone stand, the feedback was heard through the speakers. Brian didn’t realize it, but he paced back and forth across the stage, sighing.  
  
“What’s wrong?” John asked as he tuned his bass. “You’ve been sighing for a while.”  
  
“Have I?” Brian stopped moving. “I...I guess I’m a bit down tonight.”  
  
“Why? What happened?”  
  
“I met someone at the library and we hit it off immediately! I spent an hour telling her and about my dissertation.” Brian chuckled nervously. “That’s actually why I was late.”  
  
“ _Ooh_ ,” John wiggled his brows, “Brian’s met a _girl_.” He articulated _girl_ in the most immature manner. Spinning around, he repeated it a little louder and clearer. “ _Brian’s got a—_ ”  
  
“I do _not_ , Deacy,” Brian denied, pulling John back.  
  
“Why’re you sad? This is good.”  
  
Brian’s shoulders sagged, feeling regret again. “I forgot to ask for her number. Didn’t think to give her mine, either.”  
  
John patted him on the back sympathetically. “I’m sorry, mate.”  
  
Freddie’s double clap echoed loudly, drawing everyone’s attention. “Hello, my lovelies!”  
  
Hearing a soft drum roll, Brian turned around to look at Roger, who stared straight at him and winked. Heart pounding, he felt his stomach flip. _Did he wink at me? Why did he wink at me? What does that mean? Does he usually do that? Why can’t I remember?_ Desperate for a distraction, he thought about anything out Roger and the first thing his eyes landed on was a random person in the crowd. _Black hair. He has short, black, wispy hair. Nose ring. Led Zeppelin shirt. Nice._ When the man moved, Brian was taken aback. _Is—Is that a tattoo of a fire hydrant on his arm?_ He heard Freddie’s usual dramatic interaction with the audience come to a close and habitually ran his fingers over his guitar’s strings. Everyone clapped and cheered at Freddie’s jokes.  
  
Just then, Brian spotted Chrissie at the back of the room. Instantly, his mood shifted and he broke out into a grin. She waved excitedly and he was about to wave back, but Freddie had announced their first song. He would have to wait until the show was over.  
  
**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**  
  
As grateful as Brian was for the larger-than-usual gathering, he wished he didn’t have so many bodies to shuffle through. Thankfully, Chrissie was still at the back, leaning against the wall. When she saw him, her face lit up and she ran over.  
  
“Chrissie, hey!” Brian didn’t know if it was appropriate to hug her, but when she leaned in, he just went with it. “I’m so glad you came.”  
  
“Me too,” Chrissie replied. “That was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever heard and _seen_ in my life. I mean, my god,” she laughed, “What on _earth_ are all of you _wearing_? I’ve never seen anything like it, but I love it.”  
  
“Freddie’s idea. Most of our outfits usually are.” Brian gestured towards the stage. “Come on, let me introduce you!”  
  
When they made it to the edge of the stage, they saw John, Freddie, and Roger moving the piano and disassembling the drum set. Brian called them over, but before he could even introduce Chrissie, Roger zoomed over. He brought Chrissie’s hand to his lips and kissed the top of it, mouth twisting into a killer smile. Chrissie looked like she couldn’t believe what was happening.  
  
“Hello, beautiful,” Roger greeted. “My name’s Roger, Roger Taylor, but you can call me anytime.”  
  
Internally recoiling, Brian cursed himself. He should’ve known this was going to happen, but he was too preoccupied to remember how Roger would act. Unable to reverse anything, he was forced to watch the scene unfold.  
  
Chrissie slowly withdrew her hand. “Anytime, huh?” Her mouth curled into a sweet smile before her entire expression dropped. “How about never?”  
  
For a few seconds, nobody said anything.  
  
Then, Freddie and John fell over howling and shrieking. They clutched each other for dear life, shaking and gasping through tears. Roger looked as if someone had slapped him across the face.  
  
Brian clamped a hand over his mouth, his own laughter threatening to spill. _Holy_ shit _. I’ve never seen Roger so brutally shot down before._ Chrissie held her ground.  
  
Freddie struggled to pull himself together. “W-Who _are_ y-you,” he managed to get out between cackles. “I’ve never heard anything so hilarious in my life.” Sucking in multiple deep breaths, he finally calmed. “Just _look_ at what you’ve done to poor Roger.”  
  
“Oh, I-I’m sorry,” Chrissie said frantically. “I didn’t mean any harm, I just—”  
  
“Not a problem,” Roger cut in, apparently recovered. Charming smile back on his face, he gestured at the bar. “You can just make up for it by letting me buy you a drink.”  
  
At that, Chrissie softened. “Fine. One drink.”  
  
This time, Brian remembered to get Chrissie’s cell number.

✿

✿

✿

  
A bright red fifteen glared at Brian from the top of an exam sheet. He sighed and put his pen down. _If I don’t help this kid, she’s not going to pass my class_. While brainstorming ways to tutor her, he continued to mark the rest of the papers. To his relief, they turned out fairly well.  
  
Roger rounded the corner, wearing a set of black and white polka-dotted pajamas. With a simple nod of his head, he silently greeted Brian, then headed straight for the fridge. Going over to the table, he poured cereal and milk into a bowl, he stuck his spoon in and began to eat.  
  
Brian concentrated on creating his lesson plans for the following week. Despite his focus, he couldn’t help being tuned in to Roger’s presence. Discreetly, he glanced at him, then quickly looked back down. Five seconds later, he did it again. It happened again, and again, and again. Dropping his pen, he accepted the fact that he could no longer concentrate.  
  
Droplets of water dripped from the ends of Roger’s hair. It should not have been significant—he looked like he had a wet mop on his head. Nonetheless, Brian’s eyes followed the small droplets of water as they landed on Roger’s shoulder and slid over his collarbone and down his shirt. It was precisely at that moment that he caught Roger’s eyes. Embarrassed, he averted his gaze.  
  
“Whatcha working on, Bri?” Roger asked.  
  
The light, curious tone of Roger’s voice indicated he hadn’t noticed anything, but it didn’t make Brian feel any better. “My lesson plans for next week’s classes. I finished grading tests about five minutes ago.”  
  
Roger stuffed another spoonful of cereal in his mouth. A drop of milk remained on his bottom lip, threatening to fall. Painfully slowly, his tongue slipped out and licked it away. Brian clasped his hands together tightly in front of his face and clenched his jaw. _Bloody hell. What kind of torture is this?_ Just when he thought he could handle it, Roger picked up his bowl and slurped the milk at an obnoxiously loud volume.  
  
At his wit’s end, Brian compiled all the papers on the table in a hurry and dropped them on his desk in his room. Putting on a coat and wrapping a scarf around his neck, he opened the front door.  
  
Roger whirled his head around. “Where’re you going? It’s almost seven.”  
  
“Out.” Without waiting for a response. Brian slammed the door and left.  
  
A cacophony of traffic noise filled the streets. The air temperature brought a slight chill, but under his layers, Brian wasn’t too bothered. Led by spontaneity, he turned right and walked without a destination in mind.  
  
A barrage of thoughts and feelings attacked Brian. First and foremost, confusion and fear swirled around. _Why am I still looking Roger like...that? He’s a—we’re both bloody men! I must be bonkers!_ He looked around. Couples walked up and down the blocks, hand in hand. Men and _women_. Accidentally bumping into someone, he stumbled over his feet.  
  
“Watch where you’re going!” A man shouted.  
  
“S-Sorry,” Brian stammered. “Sorry.”  
  
“Bloody wanker,” the man grumbled under his breath.  
  
Nerve-wracked, Brian finally took notice of his surroundings. _The library. I’ve been walking towards the library._ Not wanting to be inside, he sat on a bench.  
  
In the next moment, the doors to the library swung open and Chrissie walked out, carrying a stack of books.  
  
“Chrissie?” Brian called out.  
  
Chrissie looked up. “Brian? Hey! What a coincidence. We meet again at the library.” She opened her bag and placed the books inside. “What are you doing out here?”  
  
Brian stood and walked over to her. “Oh, I was just...I was just taking an evening stroll. How about you?”  
  
“My books were all due soon, so I returned them and borrowed new ones.”  
  
“I’m jealous. Actually having the time to read.”  
  
“You’re the one out here, in front of the _library_ , taking a stroll,” Chrissie shot back jokingly.  
  
Surprised at the light jab, Brian was taken aback. Then, he laughed. “Yeah, alright. You have a point.”  
  
The two of them started to walk and talk. Gradually, Brian’s unease left and he slipped into easy conversation with Chrissie. Since he didn’t plan on going back to the flat any time soon, he accompanied her all the way to her house.  At her front door, he paused, unsure of his next course of action.  
  
Thankfully, Chrissie decided for him. “So, I’m new around here. Would you care to show me around to where all the good food is? I’m famished.”  
  
“Sure! I know the perfect place.”  
  
Chrissie walked up the steps. “Sounds great. Let me just put my books down and I’ll be right out.”  
  
In a few minutes, Chrissie re-emerged carrying only a handbag. Brian brought her to the Indian restaurant just around the corner. Not feeling too hungry, Brian was content to sit back, but Chrissie insisted on sharing her meal. Skillfully persuaded, he agreed and took small bites.  
  
Post-dinner, they headed to Hyde Park, entering through a side gate. A crescent moon shone brightly in the sky, surrounded by plenty of twinkling stars. Brian and Chrissie walked side by side along the empty path and continued their conversation.  
  
“Tell me more about you,” Brian said. “You said that you moved here recently. Where from?”  
  
“Sheffield. I lived together with my mum and younger brother in a small flat. It’s been my hometown since I was born.”  
  
“Why did you move here?”  
  
“For one, my dad lives here, but I—” For a moment, Chrissie stopped speaking and looked down. Softly murmuring, she finished her sentence. “I wanted a change in scenery.”  
  
Clearly, there was another underlying reason, but Brian didn’t press it. He didn’t say anything in response and waited to see whether or not Chrissie would explain. From the corner of his eye, a pigeon sprung off a tree branch and flapped its wings, flying away.  
  
Chrissie took a deep breath and sighed. “Not exactly scenery. It was more of my environment. Mostly my mum and brother.”  
  
_Family problems_. “Did...something happen?” Brian asked.  
  
“Let’s just say I got really tired of listening to the two of them constantly bickering and shouting at each other. It was horrible. It’s not only that, though. I missed my dad, too. So I figured, why not live with him for a while?”  
  
“I’m sorry to hear that, Chrissie. I do hope you’re more at ease now, here in London.”  
  
“Oh, definitely!” Chrissie responded cheerfully. “I like being in new places. It’s exciting.” She stopped by a patch of flowers, admiring them. A squirrel popped out from behind the petals and darted away. “Tell me more about _you_ , Brian. You’re a rock star, a scientist, _and_ a teacher. What _can’t_ you do?”  
  
Brian chuckled. “I don’t know about rock star. I’m not exactly famous. Nor have I gotten my PhD, so technically I can’t be considered a scientist either.”  
  
Chrissie hit him lightly on the forearm. “Don’t do that.” She pointed her finger, chastising him. “Don’t sell yourself short. You’re amazing, Brian. Incredibly smart and talented.”  
  
Brian smiled fondly and felt a comforting sensation spread through him, making him feel warm and secure. “Thank you.”  
  
“Will you be able to be both?”  
  
“Hm?” Brian frowned. “What do you mean?”  
  
“Both a rock star and an astrophysicist.”  
  
Brian stopped walking, looked up to the sky, and let out a deep sigh. “That certainly is the question.” He knew that it would be quite difficult to pursue music and science at the same time. Eventually, he’d have to make a choice _._ Deep down, he understood the contrasting natures of the two careers, but still, he wanted both. “I love astrophysics. It’s exciting and fascinating and it makes me so happy. I’ve also been on this path for so long already. For so many years, I’ve headed in this direction to have a strong career.”  
  
“But...?” A questioning expression reflected on Chrissie’s face. “I hear a ‘but’.”  
  
“Good ear,” Brian said, smiling softly. “ _But_ , I’ve never stopped thinking about traveling the world and performing for large audiences. Me, Roger, John, and Freddie. That’s the dream.” He thought of all the late night talks about becoming famous. It only fueled his yearning.  
  
Chrissie walked towards a bench facing a pond and sat down. Waving Brian over, she patted the seat next to her. Brian took the seat and crossed his legs. The half moon reflected on the surface of the water and suddenly, a memory flashed through his mind. He remembered taking a walk with Roger, and Tim, after dinner, and the three of them had stopped at this exact pond. This was the place where he took his first photograph of Roger. He could picture it clear as day. _He looked beautiful._ Once again, a dreadful feeling crept up inside him. Such a fond memory, now tainted. He almost buried his face in his hands out of frustration.  
  
“What’s wrong?” Chrissie asked. “You’ve gone quiet.”  
  
“Hm?” Brian tore his gaze away from the scenery in front of him. “Oh, nothing. Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking. What were we talking about again?”  
  
“You were talking about how traveling and performing around the world is the dream.”  
  
“Ah, yes, the dream.” Brian sighed. Queen meant Roger and Roger was...he didn’t know what Roger was. Roger had been making feel feeling all sorts of things lately, things that he’d normally feel about girls. He pushed the thought away, not yet ready to confront it. “So, Chrissie! Speaking of dreams, what are your dreams? Want to become an astrophysicist, too?”  
  
Chrissie laughed. “Not me. I love studying it, but that’s the extent of it. At least for now.” She brought her feet up onto the bench and hugged her legs. Her chin rested in the slot between her kneecaps. “My dream? I guess I’ve always wanted to...publish a novel.”  
  
“You’re a writer!” Brian exclaimed. “What do you write about? Can I read your work?”  
  
Chrissie’s eyes widened. “Nooo, definitely not. Nobody’s looked at my writing before.”  
  
“Maybe I can be the first.”  
  
“It’s just a draft, full of mistakes and errors.”  
  
“All the better to have an editor.”  
  
A hint of a smile slowly crept onto Chrissie’s face. “Maybe. I’ll think about it.”  
  
Just at that moment, a cell phone rang. Brian checked his phone, but the screen showed no notification.  
  
Chrissie reached into her pocket for her cell and picked up. “Hello? Oh, dad......I’m just at the park......I’m with Brian.” A series of _yes’s_ and _no’s_. “I...I suppose so. I’ll be on my way back, then. See you soon...love you, too.” She ended the call.  
  
“Have to go?” Brian asked.  
  
Chrissie nodded. “It’s gotten dark outside and my dad was worried.” She let out a small laugh. “Honestly, I’m an adult now. I can take care of myself.”  
  
“Let’s go together. My place is pretty close.”  
  
A strong gust propelled them forward as they walked on the empty sidewalk. Brian shivered and shrunk into his coat, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He looked at Chrissie, who was wearing a hat, a scarf, and gloves. _Smart. She came prepared, unlike me. Could have grabbed something before rushing out of the—_ He remembered why he ran out of the flat in the first place. Moreover, he realized he was getting closer to his building and hesitantly slowed to a stop.  
  
Chrissie also stopped. “Is this your flat?”  
  
Brian nodded. He shifted around awkwardly, not yet entering. “Is your place far from here? I can walk you.”  
  
“No, I’m fine,” Chrissie said. The air fogged up in front of her face as she spoke.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m _fine_ , don’t worry,” Chrissie repeated. “Thanks for showing me around tonight.”  
  
Brian smiled. “Anytime.”

The silence stretched between them.  
  
The first break it, Chrissie gave him a hug. “Good night, then, Brian.”  
  
Brian hugged her back. “Good night, Chrissie.”  
  
With that, Chrissie went on her way. Brian watched her disappear down the block, not yet ready to go back upstairs. In the end, the cold got the better of him and he went inside.  
  
In the flat, rock music played softly in the dark. The only light came from the bathroom, where someone was singing. Despite being inside, a bit of a chill still remained, so Brian kept his coat on. When he turned on the living room lights, he was greeted by the sight of Roger sleeping on the couch. A copy of a _Music Life_ magazine rested on his stomach, indicating that he had dozed off while reading. The radio sat on the sofa arm, the source of the music. A harsh wind blew in through a small window opening and Roger shivered.  
  
Quickly, Brian grabbed the blanket on Roger’s bed and brought it out. Taking the magazine away, he draped it over the sleeping man and tucked it in on the sides. The rise and fall of the blanket as Roger breathed in and out was...oddly mesmerizing. Brian looked up at Roger’s face and sighed. _He looks so peaceful._ He wondered what it would feel like to curl up beside him. _How would it feel to have him in my arms?_ _His hair would be soft, I know it._ These thoughts fueled his heart, but pained his mind. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way about his best friend. Roger was a man. He was a man. Men are supposed to fall in love with women.

As the clocked ticked on the wall, Brian pondered solemnly. _Would it have been different? If Roger was a woman? Or if I were a woman?_ The thought plagued him for the rest of the night. He lay awake in his bed, wondering and imagining. Eventually, he fell asleep, lulled by the series of memories he had subconsciously recalled.

✿

✿

✿

  
Brian looked at his tile rack: A, P, Y, E, W, H, and S. The list of words on the board included SPA, AT, NET, STAR, LOGO, and ONE. He tossed the H and Y tiles back into the tile bag and drew out an L and a D. Having gotten the letter he wanted, he prayed that Freddie wouldn’t have the same idea.    
  
On the other end of the board, Freddie placed a T in front of ONE and created TONE. “Four more points for me.” He jotted it down on the paper under his name.  
  
“Haha!” Brian grinned. He added a P, L, and A in front of NET and formed PLANET. Smirking, he took the paper from Freddie. “Eight more points for me.”  
  
Freddie crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “You’re very astrophysics-themed this morning.”  
  
“Oh yes,” Brian said, chuckling. “Chrissie and I were just playing yesterday and somehow it turned into a challenge to see who could make the most words related to astrophysics.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a C, A, and I. “She won.”  
  
Freddie whistled, eyes widening. “She beat _you_ . At _Scrabble._ ”  
  
“ _Once_. She beat me _once_ .”  
  
“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her,” Freddie mentioned. Instead of looking at Brian, he focused on a drawing on the corner of the score paper. “You must really like her.”  
  
“Oh, I do!” Brian gushed. “She’s an amazing person. It was so easy to become friends with her. We study the same subject, she loves our music and always comes to our shows, she’s got a wicked sense of humor. Just a great gal overall.”  
  
“Mhm.” Freddie finished sketching a final detail and lifted the paper. “What do you think of this?”  
  
Brian studied the drawing. _A...crab?_ Underneath the crab was a crown. _Two lions on the side..._ He couldn’t be sure about the two creatures at the bottom, but maybe they were butterflies.  
  
Freddie stared at him expectantly.  
  
“It’s nice,” Brian said. “I’m not sure what’s on the bottom, but it looks very cool. What’s it for?”  
  
“The band!” Freddie exclaimed. “I’ve been thinking about creating something to represent us. To represent Queen.” Pointing to each animal, he explained their meanings. “It’s just a sketch, but the crab at the top is you, for your zodiac sign! The lions are Roger and Deacy. Then, there’s me! I’m the two fairies at the bottom.”  
  
“Oh, those were _fairies_ .” Brian saw them clearly now. “Sorry, I wasn’t sure.”  
  
“So...what do you think?”  
  
“I love it, Fred. It’s a brilliant idea.”  
  
Beaming, Freddie placed a T next to STAR, forming START. “Your turn.”  
  
Brian scanned the board. As he was thinking, he heard the creaking sound of a door opening from the hall. Footsteps drew closer.  
  
Roger padded into the living room, yawning. His hair stuck out in two different directions and he had a blanket wrapped around him. “Morning.”  
  
“Good morning,” Brian greeted. “Sleep well?”  
  
Without answering, Roger walked over to Brian and looked over his shoulder. “Is it your turn?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Roger picked up the C and E and added it below SPA to create SPACE.  
  
“Nice!” Brian said with a laugh. “It fits my theme, too.”  
  
“Hey!” Freddie pouted and furrowed his brows. “That’s not fair. You’re going to help Brian, but not me?”  
  
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Roger reassured. He skipped over to Freddie’s side and looked at his tiles, then the board. Picking up two letters, he placed them down on the board. The T and W went before AT. TWAT. He spelled TWAT.  
  
Freddie picked up the dictionary and whacked Roger on the head. “Twat?!! Are you serious?!!” He jumped up from his seat and chased Roger down the hall.  
  
Brian could still hear the sound of Roger’s obnoxious laughter behind closed doors. He read the board again and chuckled to himself.  
  
_A twat indeed_ .

✿

✿

✿

  
Sweat glistened on Brian’s forehead and he wiped it away with the ends of his sleeve. In addition to the body heat rolling off the massive crowd, the light from the ceiling spotlights covered every inch of the stage, leaving him with nowhere to escape. His breaths were heavy after the intense performance of their final song. _It’s not usually so crowded here on Friday’s. It’s like a madhouse._ Roger approached him from behind and Brian instinctively swung his arm and clapped hands with him. Roger gave him a little wink before turning to blow kisses to the girls in the audience. It was stupid how happy that made him, but he smiled anyway.  
  
Freddie bowed and applause erupted once again. After thanking the crowd, he and John left to find a table. Roger hopped off the stage and started to chat with a group of young ladies. Brian looked away quickly, his defense mechanisms flaring up. He spotted Chrissie sitting at the bar and made his way over. Just as he reached her, she wrapped her hands around his arm, staring straight behind him.  
  
Brian frowned, confused. “Chrissie, what’s wrong?”  
  
“The guy behind me,” Chrissie hissed. “He won’t leave me alone. Let’s go.” Her grip tightened. “Please.”  
  
“Hey!” The man called. “Where are you going, cutie?” He downed a shot. “What’s your name?”  
  
“She’s not interested,” Brian snapped.  
  
“Wasn’t talking to you,” the man sneered. He stood up and slowly approached.  
  
Brian stepped forward, moving in front of Chrissie. He looked the man directly in the eye. “And she’s not going to be talking to _you_ .”  
  
The man held Brian’s gaze for a few seconds, but eventually, he set his glass down and walked away. Chrissie let out a sigh of relief and dropped her hands. Brian put an arm over her shoulder protectively as they walked over to Freddie and John.  
  
“Thanks,” Chrissie said. “I kept ignoring him, but he just wouldn’t give up.”  
  
“Of course,” Brian responded, pulling a chair out for her. “Some people just don’t get what _no_ means. Real tossers.” He took the seat directly across.  
  
“Hello, Chrissie.” John smiled and waved. “We just ordered. Are you hungry?”  
  
Chrissie shook her head. “I’m okay. I ate while you were playing. Incredible job, as usual, by the way.”  
  
“Thank you, darling,” Freddie grinned. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Maybe don’t that so often around Roger or his ego will inflate to God’s knows how—”

“I’m gone for two seconds and you’re already talking shit about me, Fred.” Roger placed four bottles of beer on the table and pulled out the seat next to Chrissie. “Hello, Chrissie!” he said, beaming. When Freddie reached for a bottle, he snatched it away. “That one’s for Chrissie. You can get your own drink.”  
  
Freddie scoffed. “Petty.” He stood up and headed to the bar.  
  
John snickered. “Get anybody’s number tonight, Roger?”  
  
“Yes,” Roger answered with a smirk. “We’re going for _coffee_ . Tomorrow _night_ .”  
  
In a few minutes, Freddie returned, just as the food arrived. Not even a minute had passed before he and Roger started bickering again, fighting over the fries. John listened intently and every once in a while, he mentioned past instances that caused Freddie and Roger to start shouting again. Brian rolled his eyes and Chrissie laughed.  
  
While Brian was eating, someone approached the table. A black haired girl in a bright blue dress set a box of chocolates on the edge of the table and quickly left before Brian could say anything. He picked up the box and read the attached note.

 

_Amazing performance tonight. These are for you._

 

“ _Ooh_ , looks like _someone’s_ got an admirer,” Chrissie teased. “Usually it’s Roger who gets surrounded by girls.”  
  
Brian’s cheeks flushed. “Oh, shut up. I’m not _surrounded_. It was just one person.”  
  
“You should go talk to her. She’s pretty cute.”  
  
“She _is_ cute,” Brian agreed, “but...” _She’s not Roger._ “I guess she’s...not my type.”  
  
“What’s your type, then?” Chrissie leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on top of her hands.  
  
Without meaning to, Brian glanced at Roger and immediately looked away. _Shit, I hope she didn’t notice that._ He shifted his gaze up, hoping that it seemed like he was in thought. “I...I don’t know. I’ve never really thought about what my type was.” He tapped his fingers on the table nervously. “What about you?”  
  
“That’s funny, actually,” Chrissie said. “You know, my type used to be guys like Roger.”  
  
Brian choked on his drink. “What?” Now he intentionally looked at Roger, who was no longer fighting with Freddie, but rather gossiping rather animatedly. He knew that Roger fancied Chrissie, just a bit, but if they got together, he didn’t know if he’d be able to handle it.  
  
“Key phrase is _used to_. I’ve had too many bad experiences, so I stopped going for men who are such constant flirts.”  
  
“Oh.” Brian washed down his food with his drink, relieved. “So...what’s your type now?”  
  
“I don’t know either, I guess,” Chrissie replied. Then, she smirked. “I haven’t had anyone catch my eye yet.”  
  
“ _Oh?_ ” Brian raised his bottle. “Well, here’s a toast to single life.”  
  
Chrissie giggled and raised her bottle. “To single life.”  
  
A slamming noise sounded on the adjacent table. John had lost an arm wrestle with Roger and was massaging his knuckles.  
  
Roger stared at his right hand, jaw dropped. Then, he pumped both fists in the air. “I won!”  
  
“You got lucky,” John and Freddie said at the same time.  
  
Roger agreed to a rematch.  
  
He lost.

✿

✿

✿

  
“David Brooks!”  
  
The bright sun glared in the sky and Brian momentarily looked down at the ground. To his left, Roger sat slouched in his chair with crossed arms. For once, he was wearing sunglasses in the appropriate setting.  
  
“Colin Butler!”  
  
Scanning the program, Brian located Colin Butler. _Campbell...Cooper...ah, there he is._ He closed the program and fanned himself, but it proved to be ineffective.  
  
“Patricia Campbell!”  
  
Freddie shifted in his seat on Brian’s right. “Is it Deacy’s turn yet? How many last names are there that begin with C?”  
  
“After the next one,” Brian said. “You _do_ realize that we have to stay for the whole ceremony, right? We can’t just take John and leave.”  
  
“Gale Cooper!”  
  
“Of course I _know_ that.” Freddie snatched the program and fanned himself with it. “I wouldn’t leave in the middle. That is highly disrespectful. I was just wondering why it’s taking so long for him to appear.”  
  
“John Deacon!”  
  
Freddie and Roger both stood up in sync. Before they could start clapping, Brian pulled them back down. “Are you insane?!!” He hissed. “It was specifically requested that all applause wait until the _end_.”  
  
“We got excited,” Roger responded, not as quietly as Brian. “Deacy’s graduating!”  
  
Freddie nodded in agreement. “Exactly. How could you _not_ clap? Aren’t you happy for him?”  
  
“Of course I’m happy,” Brian said. “I just happen to listen to directions too.”  
  
“Well—”  
  
“Shh!”  
  
Freddie crossed his legs and looked back at the stage. He and Roger remained quiet until the last name had been called.  
  
The graduating class lined up on the risers, following the photographer’s instructions. The moment the last picture had been taken, all the graduates threw their caps up in the air and cheered. Everyone rushed around chaotically, trying to find their friends and family. Brian, Freddie, and Roger stuck together with John’s parents and Veronica. Within a few minutes, John emerged from the crowd, clutching his diploma.  
  
Freddie and Roger screamed at the top of their lungs and rushed forward to hug John. This time, Brian didn’t stop them and instead joined them. The three of them circled around John, jumping up and down.  
  
“Look at you, Deacy!!!” Roger cried. “All grown up and graduating.”  
  
“We’re so proud of you,” Freddie gushed. “You’ve made so many wonderful accomplishments.”  
  
Brian held in his laughter and wiped away a fake tear. “It’s amazing how far you’ve come. Absolutely amazing.”  
  
John wriggled and pushed his way out of their embrace. He blushed when he saw his parents and Veronica smiling. “Oh my _god_ , you’re all so _embarrassing_. I am _not_ your child. Roger, you’re literally only two years older than I am!” He walked over to his actual parents and hugged them.  
  
His mother kissed him on the cheek. “They’re just happy for you, honey. Just like we are.”  
  
“We love you so much, son,” his father said.  
  
“Thank you, mum, dad.” John embraced his parents tightly.  
  
Veronica waited patiently. When John turned to face her, she handed him a bouquet of flowers and kissed him. “Congratulations on graduating.” Taking his hand, she interlaced their fingers together. “It’s so wonderful that they decided to have the ceremony outside. It’s a really nice day today.”  
  
“Tad bit hot,” Roger pointed out.  
  
“Really hot, actually,” Brian added.  
  
“It’s _so_ hot,” Freddie said. “You know what _that_ means...” He clapped ecstatically. “Beach day!”  
  
Together, Freddie, Roger, and Brian chanted _Beach Day! Beach Day! Beach Day!_  
  
John took off his gown. “Beach day sounds amazing. I’ve been sweating this entire time. But my parents have already planned a dinner at a restaurant.”  
  
“Nonsense! Go with your friends,” his mother insisted. “The reservation is later tonight, so you have plenty of time. Enjoy yourself at the beach.”  
  
“Mum, are you sure? I don’t even have my swim trunks and—“

“BAM!” Roger pulled a pair of swim trunks out from a bag. “We packed it for you.”  
  
John gaped at Roger. “Well...okay then.” He brought Veronica’s hand up to his lips and kissed the top of it. “How about you? Do you want to come along?”  
  
“Oh, I’d love to,” Veronica said, “but unfortunately I’m needed for the night shift at work. Have fun with the boys, though.”  
  
“Alright, love. Take care.” John kissed Veronica once more. Then, he grabbed the beach bag and stole the wide-brimmed hat off Freddie’s head. “Let’s go to the beach!”  
  
**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**  
  
Swarms of people covered every open spot near the shoreline. After scouring back and forth, the group of four settled for a spot farther from the water. They each held a corner of the sheet and gently laid it down on the sand. Since he was the loser of rock-paper-scissors, Freddie stayed behind to watch the bags.  
  
Brian, Roger, and John raced to the water. They all ran straight into the ocean without hesitation. The cool temperature contrasted against Brian’s warm skin, a refreshing sensation. He floated on his back and closed his eyes, enjoying the relaxation. When he opened his eyes again, he saw Roger trying to climb on top of John’s shoulders. Quickly and quietly, he snuck up from behind. Dipping underwater, he felt around. Upon locating John’s foot, he pulled hard and John and Roger toppled over. Roger shrieked as he fell.  
  
Brian barked out laughing at the scene. His shoulders shook uncontrollably as John and Roger resurfaced. However, he stopped when they started approaching him at alarming speeds. They spent the next five minutes chasing him down and splashing him in the face.  
  
Roger left the water first, volunteering to switch with Freddie. Brian watched him as he walked away, not realizing that he was staring. He blinked back to reality when he saw Freddie running towards him. Freddie waded in quickly and latched onto Brian’s back.  
  
Brian laughed. “Hey, Fred.”  
  
“Brian! John!” Freddie exclaimed. “The water is amazing! I feel so much better.”  
  
John swam over, but he had his eyes closed. “Alright, I’m giving you two ten seconds to disperse!” He counted out loud. “Okay, are you ready? Marco!”  
  
Brian and Freddie separated immediately and answered _Polo!_ John spun around, unable to decide which direction to go.  
  
“Marco!”  
  
“Polo!”  
  
John made his move with alarming speed. Brian swam away quickly, but the sounds of his movements gave his position away. Not that it mattered, since they were shouting _Marco_ and _Polo_ back and forth. He started to wade using his feet, but in exchange for less noise, he sacrificed speed. John caught him in less than two minutes.  
  
“Okay, okay!” Brian laughed. “You got me.”  
  
While John went after Freddie, who was much better at the game than him, Brian made his way back up the sand to their spot. Roger reclined on his back, hands behind his head and sunglasses on his face.  
  
“Hey, Rog,” Brian called. “I’ll take the next watch. You can go back to the water.”  
  
“Actually, I think I’m good here,” Roger said. “I like laying here in the sun. I’ll stay and watch.”  
  
“Oh, alright then.”  
  
“Wait!” Roger sat up. “Before you leave, help me put sunscreen on my back.” He flipped around onto his stomach and folded his hands beneath his head.  
  
“Sure.” Brian rooted through the beach bag for the sunscreen bottle. Flipping open the cap, he squeezed out a line and spread it on his hands. He straddled Roger’s thighs and gently rubbed the sunscreen on his back.

After he finished, Roger rolled over onto his back, eyes still closed. Being treated to a partially nude view, Brian’s mouth went dry. He couldn’t take his eyes off Roger. All he could think of was how he wanted to _touch_ him, hover over him and press hard kisses to his skin, see what would make him flush. He wanted to see Roger writhing, panting, bucking his hips as his legs were spre—

“I’m going to visit my grandmother soon,” Roger said casually.

Brian was so glad Roger’s eyes were closed. If they weren’t Roger would’ve seen a small tent sporting in his swim trunks. Not to mention, the horrified look on his face because of his wildly inappropriate imagination. “Y-Your grandmother, huh? When?” He hoped Roger didn’t notice the slight shake in his voice.

“Soon. Maybe this weekend.”

“For how long?”

“A fortnight. Maybe three weeks.”

A fortnight or three weeks. Roger would be gone for a fortnight or three weeks. Brian collapsed onto the sheet, turning his head to the side so that he could look at Roger. From the sky, a seagull flew past, casting a fleeting shadow. Brian felt a tug in his heart. Roger wasn’t even gone yet, but he missed him already.

✿

✿

✿

  
The traffic light changed, displaying the white symbol of a person walking. Brian grabbed Chrissie’s hand and pulled her across the street. He felt her dragging resistance, but nevertheless, he persisted forward.  
  
“ _Brian_ ,” Chrissie moaned. “I was almost done with my flashcards. I just needed a couple more minutes.”  
  
Brian looked back with doubt written all over his face. “That’s what you always say and you never really mean it. If I hadn’t forced you to leave the library, we would’ve been there for at least another hour.”  
  
“That’s not—” Chrissie paused. Her lips pursed and she avoided his gaze. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. For a good reason, though. I have a test tomorrow!”  
  
“Chrissie, you and I both know that’s unnecessary. You’re an intelligent young woman. You just get stressed easily.”  
  
“Yeah, well—”  
  
“Oh, look where we are!” Brian exclaimed, cutting her off. “PJ’s. Good timing, it’s almost one. Let’s grab some lunch.”  
  
Chrissie huffed, but followed him inside. As they walked past the bar counter, Mike, the bartender shouted Brian’s name in a loud manner, as if they were good pals. Brian grimaced slightly, but sent an acknowledging wave. He didn’t know why Mike thought they were close. _Just because he and Roger get along well doesn’t mean I’m the same._ Chrissie raised a brow, but he quickly dismissed it with a shake of his head.  
  
“Looks like our usual spot is open,” Chrissie said. She skipped over, dropped her bag on the floor, and slipped into the chair.  
  
Brian pulled out the seat across and sat down. He rolled his eyes when Chrissie took out her flashcards and started to obsess over them again. Peering through the large window pane, he followed the trail of a cloud as it floated leisurely across the sky. Just as it was disappearing behind a tree, something brushed against his arm and he whipped his head around.  
  
A waitress had set two menus on the table. Her name tag read JENNY. “Good afternoon! Can I get you two something to drink?”  
  
“Coffee, please,” Chrissie said. Two creams, one sugar.”  
  
“Orange juice for me, please,” Brian added.  
  
“One coffee and one orange juice. Coming right up!” With a bright smile, Jenny turned and left.  
  
Brian flipped through the menu, combing through each item thoroughly.  
  
“Why do you always read the whole menu?” Chrissie asked. “You only ever order one thing no matter how many times you look through it.”  
  
Brian sighed. “I thought maybe I was in the mood for something new. Guess not.” He closed the menu. “What about you? What are you having?”  
  
“Fish and chips.”  
  
“And you accuse me of ordering the same thing every time,” Brian teased.  
  
“You know what? Maybe I _will_ get something else.”  
  
Brian laughed as Chrissie proceeded to read the menu just like he did.  
  
In a few moments, Jenny returned with a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice. She placed them on the table and reached into her pocket for a notepad. “Are you ready to order?”  
  
“Yes, I will have number _sixteen_ ,” Chrissie said. She looked Brian right in the eyes and smirked.  
  
“Number sixteen...” Jenny turned to Brian. “And you?”  
  
Brian bit back a laugh at Chrissie’s pettiness. He, however, was not as spontaneous. “I’ll have—”  
  
“GET THE FUCK OUT MY CLUB, YOU DIRTY _COCKSUCKERS_.”  
  
The shout came from the direction of the bar. Mike slammed his fist on the counter, screaming at two men.  
  
“TAKE YOUR GAY _SHIT_ SOMEWHERE AWAY FROM MY BLOODY CLUB.”  
  
The couple scrambled off their stools and ran for the exit. Without a word, everyone moved out of the way. Something twisted inside Brian and he clenched his fists.  
  
Completely fuming, Mike grabbed a fork off the counter and chucked it at the door. “AND DON’T EVEN FUCKING THINK ABOUT COMING BACK.”  
  
Silence followed the slam of the door. After a couple of seconds, a man from the corner let out a sharp whistle and clapped. A few others joined him. Although many didn’t, everyone went back to their conversations and chatter quickly returned.  
  
Without meaning to, Brian glanced back at Mike, who grinned and waved. The sickening sound of laughter rang out and people conversed with smiles plastered all over their faces. Jenny still stood at the table, holding a pen and notepad.  
  
Suddenly, Brian couldn’t breathe. Something clawed at his chest from the inside and he registered the pain coming from his own fingernails digging into his skin. His head started to throb and he became overwhelmed with nausea. _I...I can’t breathe...I can’t—_ He looked out the window at the open blue sky. _I need—_ He jumped out of his chair and rushed towards the exit.  
  
The moment he stepped outside, Brian inhaled deeply. The breath of fresh air filled his lungs, but the nasty sensation barely unclogged. He sucked in another breath, desperate for the temporary stroke of clarity that it provided. The dirty, corrupt feeling suffocated him still. He couldn’t tell whether it was from the toxic atmosphere of PJ’s or because it could’ve been him that was the target of Mike’s verbal attack. Every breath felt like he was being purified and cleansed.  
  
“Brian!” Chrissie barged through the door. “Are you alright?!! You just bolted without any warning!”  
  
Still gasping for air, Brian was unable to answer. He focused on his respiration flow. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Thankfully, the headache began to subside.  
  
Chrissie touched his arm. “Was it what happened with that couple?”  
  
Just like that, the panic returned.  
  
“I—I don’t...” Brian grasped at straws trying to form a reasonable sentence. He stared down at the ground. _She knows. She knows about me and I can’t hide it and oh god what if she reacts the same way and—_  
  
“I understand,” Chrissie said softly. “You must also be sick to the stomach at such a horrifying scene. He had no right to say any of those words to that poor couple.”  
  
Brian looked up and blinked. “Huh?”  
  
“That was just awful. No one deserves to be treated that way. It doesn’t matter whether you’re straight, gay, bisexual, or anything else. A person is a person.”  
  
The nausea disappeared. Chrissie’s words echoed in Brian’s head. _It doesn’t matter whether you’re straight, gay, bisexual, or anything else._ He released his clenched fists. _A person is a person._ It was so refreshing he almost laughed.  
  
“I don’t want to be here anymore either,” Chrissie said, disgust on her face. “Can we go up to your place?”  
  
Brian was already walking. “Good idea, let’s go.”  
  
**︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵**  
  
Instead of turning on the lights, Brian opened the curtains, allowing bright sunlight to illuminate the room. He sat next to Chrissie on the sofa as she reviewed her notes. Every few seconds, she mumbled a phrase or two. For a while, Brian was following her process, but when he noticed Roger’s guitar leaning against the corner, he abandoned all thoughts of science. The acoustic instrument brought back a recent memory...  
  
_Steam fogged up the bathroom mirror. Brian stepped out of the shower and dried himself. Slipping on his pajamas, he walked out of the bathroom. Just before going into his room, he heard the strum of a guitar. He poked his head into the living room and saw Roger with his guitar in his lap._ _  
__  
__Roger sat on the couch, alternating between playing and writing on a piece of paper. A lock of his hair fell to the right side of his face and he tucked it back behind his ear. The series of chords became a sequence and the notes developed into a small melody. Brian approached from behind and leaned over the back of the sofa to get a better look at the paper._ _  
__  
__Roger turned his head. “Hey, Bri. Out of the shower?”_ _  
__  
__“Mm.” Brian read the scribbles of chords, lyrics, and rhythms. “What are you working on?”_ _  
__  
__“A song,” Roger answered. He set the guitar aside on a cushion and cracked his knuckles absentmindedly. “I was just thinking. Bri, either you or Freddie always write the songs we play. And Tim, too, back in Smile. I helped sometimes, but I’ve never actually written my own song. But it’s not just writing my own song.” Something shone in his eye, a twinkle that matched his grin. “I wanna sing it myself, too.”_ _  
__  
__Brian rounded the couch and sat next to Roger. “I like what you have so far.”_ _  
__  
__“Yeah? I’ve only got a couple of phrases, but it’s getting there. Will you help me?”_ _  
__  
__Getting up, Brian went into his room and grabbed his guitar. He removed it from its case and sat back down, setting it on his lap. “Yeah. Of course I will.”_  
  
“Brian... _Brian_...hello?”  
  
The memory faded away and Brian saw a hand waving in front of his face. “Hm?”  
  
Chrissie dropped her hand. “You were really in a daze. What were you thinking about?”  
  
Instinctively, Brian shoved away his thoughts about Roger, but he remembered the way Chrissie had reacted earlier. _Maybe I can..._ He considered it. Deciding on a partial truth, he shared his thoughts.  
  
“I was...thinking about Roger. The guitar in the corner sort of reminded me of him. I miss him a bit.”  
  
Chrissie furrowed her brows. “Now that you mention it, I haven’t seen him in a while. Where’d he go?”  
  
“To visit his grandmother. He goes back to see her a couple of times a year for about a fortnight to three weeks.”  
  
“And how long has it been?”  
  
_Three days_. At that, Brian grew embarrassed. “About nine days.”  
  
“I see.” Other than that, Chrissie made no comment. She handed him a stack of flashcards. “Can you quiz me?”  
  
“Sure.” Brian took the cards and read the first one. “Luminosity.”  
  
Without missing a beat, Chrissie recited the definition. “The total power output of an object.”  
  
“Elongation.”  
  
“The angular distance the Moon or a planet is from the Sun.”  
  
They continued until all one hundred and fifteen flashcards had been read. Chrissie finally felt satisfied enough to stop studying. After a few cups of tea, she gathered her books and went home.  
  
.  
.  
.  
  
A week later, Chrissie called. She got a perfect score.

✿

✿

✿

  
_A badger sat on a log by the edge of the river. It kicked a small pebble into the water currents. From high in the sky, a hummingbird swooped down and perched on the log, right next to the badger_.  
  
Muffled laughter.  
  
_The badger scooted closer to the hummingbird, but the bird kept moving. Stubbornly persistent, the badger stood and ran after the bird_.  
  
The sound of a piano, ascending and descending rapidly.  
  
_The hummingbird was back in the air now and the badge gave chase. The faster it ran, the blurrier the surroundings became. The hummingbird let out a chirp. Or was it a cry? It got louder. A wail? The trees started to shake as the pitch of the noise went higher...and higher...and higher..._  
  
Brian startled awake to the shrill sound of Roger’s falsetto. He blinked away his drowsiness, yawning. _Studio. We’re still in the studio_. He sighed and leaned back, resting his head against the top of the chair. _That was an odd dream_.

In the recording room, Roger stood in front of a microphone, arms crossed and tapping his foot.  
  
“Yes, okay, that was good.” Freddie pressed a button and spoke into the intercom. “Now do the same thing, but start on an E four.”  
  
For the second time, Brian yawned, and his eyes watered. He sat up in his chair, stretching his arms in the air. Freddie fidgeted with the controls on the panel.  
  
Just as Roger was finishing a recording, the door to the studio burst open and John stumbled inside. Wet strands of hair stuck to the sides of his face, and his shirt was almost completely damp. Under his arm, he carried something covered by his jacket.  
  
“John!” Freddie cried, horrified. He ran over to him. “You’re completely drenched! It’s pouring and you’re not even wearing your jacket. Where have you been?!!”  
  
Surprisingly, John laughed. “Sorry, I got distracted. You won’t believe what I’ve found!” Lifting his jacket, he revealed a circuit board with entangled wires.  
  
“A circuit board,” Brian said. “Where’d you find it?”  
  
“In a skip outside of a building just a few minutes away. I saw it and thought it would be useful, so I took it with me.”  
  
The door to the recording room swung open and Roger peered out. “Hey, what happ—Deacy, why are you so wet?”  
  
“It’s raining. I don’t have an umbrella.”  
  
“That’s how people get colds,” Roger commented.  
  
“Why did you come _here_ ?” Freddie scolded. He picked up John’s jacket and wiped the droplets of water of John’s body. “You need to go home and shower and change and be dry.”  
  
John looked at the circuit board again. “Well, I was thinking about using this to make an amp! That way—“  
  
“That’s fantastic, darling, but don’t worry about that right now.” Freddie draped the jacket over John. “You can work on the amp tomorrow when you’re warm and dry and not in danger of falling ill.”  
  
John opens his mouth to argue, but Freddie cut him off. The two of them bickered all the way to the exit before John finally set the circuit board on the floor and left to go back to the flat. Freddie came back, smiling proudly and triumphantly.  
  
“Your turn to record,” Roger said to Freddie. He held open the door.  
  
Freddie went into the recording room. “Brian! Could you do the recording?”  
  
“Sure,” Brian said. He moved to sit in the seat in front of the control panel. The moment he sat down, he knew it was a mistake. _Bloody hell, this chair’s ten times more comfortable than the one I was sitting in._ Fighting the urge to lean back into the plush material, he waited for Freddie to set up in front of the microphone. After Freddie sent him a thumbs up, he started the record and the music began. Then, he pressed the RECORD button.  
  
Freddie sang theatrically, his whole body moving with every lyric. Gently, the pull of gravity lulled Brian into the soft trap of a seat. Still exhausted, he barely resisted. Eventually, his eyelids closed over his eyes and his head dropped forward. For a moment, everything was black. Freddie’s voice melted away into the distance, only slightly audible.  
  
“Brian!”  
  
Brian jolted up. “Huh? What?”  
  
“Freddie stopped.” Roger reached over the panel and stopped the music and recording. He pressed TALK. “Sorry, Fred. Give us a moment.”  
  
“Oh,” Brian murmured. “I...I drifted off. Sorry.”  
  
Roger bumped knees with him. “Are you okay? You’ve been really out of it the whole night.”  
  
“Yeah, I...” Brian sighed. “Actually, no. I haven’t been getting enough sleep lately. Work in the morning and afternoon on weekdays, then classes at night. We’re lucky that we can use the studio for free, but since it’s only available to us past midnight, it means less sleep.”  
  
“You should go home, too,” Roger said. “I’ll stay here with Fred and we’ll head back when we’re...” He stopped for a moment, then let out a laugh. “I was going to say when we’re done, but who knows if we’re ever going to be satisfied enough to be done.”  
  
Usually, Brian would dismiss it and insist on staying, but tonight it was too much. Fatigue ran through his body and weighed him down. So, he nodded, grabbed his jacket, and pushed his arms through the sleeves. Waving goodbye to Roger, he opened his umbrella and stepped out into the pouring rain.  
  
Luckily, Trident Studios was close to the flat. Brian made it upstairs within ten minutes. He removed his shoes, hung his jacket on the hook, and headed towards the bathroom. However, the water was already running. _Oh. Must be John_ . Trudging into his room, he sat on the edge of his bed. He stared his pillow. _Do I really need to brush my teeth? Nah, I’ll be fine for one night_ . Succumbing to his drowsiness, he laid his head down and pulled over the covers. It wasn’t his proudest decision, but it was certainly a much-needed one.

✿

✿

✿

  
The line disconnected and Brian snapped his phone shut. More than anything, he wanted to chuck it at the wall. Frustration welled up inside him and it aches to be released. Inhale. _It’s fine._ Exhale. _Everything’s fine_ . Inhale. _He’s just looking out for me._ Exhale. The irritation had gone, but the anxiety and stress remained. He felt trapped by an invisible cocoon that continued to tighten around him.  
  
A knock came from the door.  
  
Brian’s eyes stayed glued to the floor. “Yeah.” His voice sounded weak and lethargic, a stark contrast to the way he had been shouting before.  
  
The door creaked open. Brian didn’t bother to look up. Whoever it was, they entered the bedroom in silence and closed the door behind them. The bed dipped to his left, but Brian didn’t have the energy to say anything.  
  
“Hey.”  
  
Brian let out a sigh. Roger. He didn’t know if Roger’s presence made him feel better or worse.  
  
“You were yelling for a while,” Roger continued. His words were casual, but gentle. “What happened?”  
  
“That was my dad,” Brian answered, finally lifting his head.  
  
“What did he say?”  
  
Brian shrugged. “The usual argument. At least that’s how it started.” The whole thing replayed in his head. “He always insists that I put my career first, over everything. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Of course, I’m dedicated to my career. Of course, I want to earn my PhD.” Holding his head in his hands, he took a deep breath and exhaled. “It just hurts that he doesn’t understand how important music is to me. He thinks Queen is a distraction. A waste of time.”  
  
Roger didn’t comment, but he placed his hand on Brian’s shoulder.  
  
Brian straightened his posture. “He didn’t stop there. He said that music is financially unstable. Without fame, sources of income can be very unpredictable. That’s how he’s supporting his argument. The way he sees it, as long as I’m playing music, I’m not giving my career my full attention. ‘With a good career comes a stable job.’ That’s been his lifelong motto.”  
  
The recollection of the rest of the conversation brought back a sense of dread. Brian didn’t want to think about it anymore, but he couldn’t push it away. Deep inside, he knew the root of his anxiety wasn’t anger, but rather fear, guilt, and shame. Because everything his father had said made  _complete sense._ He knew it was difficult to reach fame as a musician. He knew his father only wanted him to be successful.  
  
“Who says we won’t have fame?” Roger asked, finally speaking up. “Who says we won’t have it all, money included? Just because we’re not there yet doesn’t mean we won’t ever make it big.”  
  
Brian smiled sadly. “You’ve always thought that, haven’t you? You and Fred. Always pushing forward, never doubting. But have you really never thought about it realistically? I mean, think about it now.” Words spilled out of his mouth in a stream of emotionally-driven sentences. “How many musicians are out there in the world trying to become known? In the _world_ , Rog. Queen has only ever played locally. We are one in thousands, possibly more. Who am I, really? I’m just one guitarist competing against the world for recognition.” A pool of tears had formed in his eyes as he rambled. The lump in his throat expanded, causing him to struggle with the rest of his thoughts. “S-So, maybe...maybe my dad is right. Maybe I should s-stick with something with a higher probability of a f-favorable outcome. Maybe I—”  
  
A sob escaped and Brian gasped for air as he fought to finish his sentence. It never happened. The moment the first tear fell, he could no longer contain the rest. The dam had burst and was now flooding out of his eyes and streaming down his cheeks. Roger pulled him into a tight embrace as he cried.  
  
Seconds became minutes. The only things in Brian’s awareness were the touch of Roger’s hand on his head and the unrelenting throbbing of his head. At some point, the tears stopped falling and the wetness on his face dried.  
  
Roger released him and shifted away. “I’m not going anywhere. Just getting tissues.” Reaching for the nightstand, he grabbed the tissue box and brought it over.  
  
Brian pulled one out and blew his nose. Then, he took another, and another, and another. With the fifth tissue, he wiped his eyes and face.  
  
“Bri, let me just tell you something,” Roger began, “I started playing guitar before I switched to drums. Ever since I became a drummer, I’ve played with so many other guitarists. Some of them sucked. Some of them were great. But when I met you, it was different. It’s not that I’m the best drummer or you’re the best guitarist, but we are the best combination of both drummer and guitarist. Alone, there are probably people who are more skilled than we are, you’re right about that. But when we come _together_ —you, me, _Freddie, Deacy—_ we are _incredible_ . I’m not just saying that to make you feel better.”  
  
Brian listened without interrupting. Everything Roger said made him want to cry again, but for completely opposite reasons. He thought back to all the times Queen performed and the only things that came to mind were the feelings of pure joy and satisfaction. He chuckled, a smile worming its way across his face. _Roger certainly has a way with words._

“Look,” Roger said, “if you really feel like science should be your main priority, then that’s the way you feel. But, correct me if I’m wrong, the way you just reacted only shows that you don’t want to give up Queen.”  
  
“Oh, no, no.” Brian shook his head vehemently. “I could never give up Queen. I can’t stand the thought of never playing with you three ever again.”  
  
Roger let out a relieved sigh. “Oh, thank _god_ .”  
  
Brian laughed at that. The lightness of his body surprised him. Gone was the weight of anxiety, distress, and despair. He could breathe, fully and deeply. Enormously grateful, he leaned forward and hugged Roger. “Thank you, Rog.”  
  
Roger squeezed him back. “You’re welcome.”  
  
They stayed like that until Brian’s face started to make him uncomfortable. “Alright.” He let go and stood. “I’m going to clean my face with a towel.”  
  
“John and Freddie are already at the studio. We were supposed to meet them there, but if you don’t feel up to it, just stay home and relax.”  
  
Brian flicked on the bathroom lights. “Okay. Tell them I’m sorry.”  
  
“They’ll understand.” Roger leaned against the wall. “Do you want me to stick around?”  
  
“No, you should go,” Brian said. He turned on the faucet. “I’ll be fine. Just need some time.”  
  
“If you’re sure. Call us if you need anything, got it?”  
  
“I will.”  
  
Roger disappeared into the living room, leaving Brian alone. Pooling water in his hands, he splashed it on his face and wiped away the streaks of tears. The cold temperature felt good against his warm skin. He grabbed a towel off the rack, dried his hands and face, and looked in the mirror. _Haven’t cried like that in a long time..._ Puffy eyes stared back at him and he tried to blink them away. He heard the front door open and close.  
  
In the kitchen, a cup of tea sat on the table. Brian smiled and brought it to the sofa, where he reclined with a pillow in his lap. He blew at the surface of the drink before taking a sip. _It’s not hot anymore. Roger must’ve made it before he came into the room._ It was such a simple thing, but it meant everything.  
  
All of a sudden, Brian became painfully overwhelmed with affection. It blossomed from within his heart and spread throughout his entire being. It whispered in his ear, reminding him of all the great things about Roger and how they made him feel. He wanted to run after Roger, take his hand, and confess to him, but a part of him was still afraid. Despite the fear, the urge to speak continued to rise. _Somebody. I have to tell somebody.  I have to—_ He suddenly thought of it. Running into his room, he opened his cell and dialed a number, eagerly awaiting the response.  
  
Three rings before someone picked up. _“Hello?”_ _  
_  
“Hey, Chrissie. It’s Brian.”  
  
_“Oh, Brian! Hey, what’s up?”_ _  
_  
Brian blanked. _Wait, I don’t want to say this over the phone_ . “Are you—are you free right now?”  
  
_“It depends. I just got home from spending the day with some friends. Why?”_ _  
_  
“Do you I think could stop by your place?”  
  
There was a moment of silence. _“Y-You mean right now?”_ Chrissie stammered.  
  
“Yeah,” Brian said. A twinge of disappointment reared its ugly head. “Unless...it’s not alright with you.”  
  
_“No!”_ Chrissie exclaimed. _“No, it’s totally fine! Come over. I was just surprised. See you soon?”_ _  
_  
Brian let out his breath, relieved. “Yes, thank you. I’ll see you soon.” He ended the call. In a rush, he rinsed the teacup and placed it on the drying rack.  
  
Just before leaving the flat, Brian glanced out the window. _Is it cold?_ Deciding against a jacket, he bolted out the building. Fortunately, there was still a bit of warmth leftover from the summer. Initially running, he slowed to a speed-walk. _This is silly. I’m acting like a kid in grade school._ However, his mind seemed to betray itself as he unconsciously sped up after crossing the street.  
  
The sun was beginning to set, painting the sky a dark shade of a mix of orange and yellow. When Brian reached Chrissie’s house, he was slightly out of breath. Knocking on the door, he tried to calm his heartbeat.  
  
Chrissie opened the door. “Hey! Come in!”  
  
Brian entered and Chrissie closed the door behind him. She led him into the kitchen and set a kettle of water on the stove. Then, she sat down at the kitchen table.  
  
The clock ticked quietly on the wall. Brian sat facing Chrissie and waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. For some reason, every time he caught her eye, she automatically averted his gaze. He twiddled his thumbs, wondering how he should tell her. A few more seconds passed by before he decided to just be honest.  
  
Chrissie spoke at the same time he did.  
  
“There’s something I need to s—”  
  
“I want to tell you s—”  
  
They both stopped.  
  
“Y-You go first, Brian,” Chrissie said, flustered.  
  
“No, you can go ahead,” Brian insisted.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Brian noticed, just then, that Chrissie was restless. She tapped her fingers on the table, crossed and uncrossed her legs, bounced her foot. Not to mention, there was a faint blush on her cheeks.  
  
“So...the thing is,” Chrissie started. “Well, it’s sort of recent, but...”  
  
Brian leaned in, trying to better hear what she was saying.  
  
“Brian, I like you.”  
  
Brian’s froze. _What?_ A cold feeling washed over him and he retreated, still unsure of what he just heard. He opened his mouth to ask, but Chrissie went on.  
  
“I...I like you. I’ve liked you for some time now, I just didn’t know for sure until recently. I-I thought it was just a passing feeling, because that’s what usually happens. I fall for a guy, but change my mind within a few weeks, so that’s why I didn’t think it was anything significant. But then, a few weeks became a month and a month became a few months.” Chrissie let out a breathless laugh. “And now I’m here, still feeling the same way. I always looking forward to hanging out with you, talking with you, seeing you. I get those butterflies in my stomach all the time now. It’s funny actually. I would never have had the courage to tell you, but my friends really encouraged me today, and then all of a sudden you asked to come over, and,” she took a deep breath, “So, this is...this is my confession. I haven’t felt this way about anyone in a long time. I haven’t felt this happy in a long time.”  
  
Brian gaped. On the outside, he held a steady, masking expression, but on the inside was a whirlwind of alarms, confusion, and uncertainty. _It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. This isn’t how it was supposed to happen._ His own confession sank. He bottled it up tightly and shoved it away into the deep inner parts of his mind where it would never be found. The hopeful look on Chrissie’s face only made him more anxious. _What do I do what do I do what do I do?!!_ The pressure made him want to run.  
  
“I’m sorry, that was a lot, I know,” Chrissie apologized. “I didn’t mean to blurt it all out like that, but I just wanted to say it.” She smiled, but Brian could see the nervousness in her eyes. She covered it up. “Y-You also had something to say and I interrupted. What were you going to say?”  
  
“I—” Words stuck in Brian’s throat and he panicked. Chrissie’s confession changed everything. _I can’t tell her about Roger now._ His mind raced for a reasonable thing to say instead. _I mean, I still could, but..._ Naturally, he imagined the worst case scenario, in which he rejected Chrissie and she became hurt. Just the thought of hurting Chrissie pained him. Wanting to avoid that at all costs, he spontaneously blurted out his response.  
  
“I like you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anybody get my HIMYM reference at the beginning lol
> 
> Leave a comment if you liked this chapter! I'm always open to feedback <3

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos or comment if you liked it, I'd love to hear your reactions. Constructive criticism is always appreciated!
> 
> Thanks for reading <3


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